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VALUABLE  WORKS 

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A  DICTIONARY  OF  THE  HOLY  BIBLE  ;  containing 

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EVIDENCE  OF  THE  TRUTH  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN 

RELIGION,  derived  from  the  literal  Fulfilment  of  PROPHECY ;  particularly 
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in  this  Country.    3  vols.  8vo. 

THE  MISCELLANEOUS  WORKS  op  the  Rev.  JOHN 

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RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 

BY  THE  LATK 

JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ., 

AUTHOR  OF 

"MONSIEUR  TONSON." 

\ 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


NEW-YORK: 

PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  J.  &  J.  HARPER, 

No.  82  CLIFF-STREET, 

AND  SOLD  BY  THE  BOOKSELLERS  GENERALLY  THROUGHOUT  TH£ 
UNITED  STATES. 


1  8  33. 


A  MIL 

*IH0 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Chevalier  Taylor — The  Author's  Parents — Jesse  Foot  and  his  Uncle 
— Derrick  the  Poet  and  Mrs.  Lessingham,  &c.   -  -     Page  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Author's  early  History — Anecdote  of  his  Grandfather,  the  Chevalier 
Taylor — Baron  de  Wenzel — Imposition  of  Henry  Jones — Account  of 
him,  &c.  -  -  -  -  -  -  -18 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Author's  own  Family — James  Taylor,  A.M. — Philip  Riley  Taylor 
— The  Author's  Father — Cheselden's  connexion  with  the  Author's 
Father — The  Author  appointed  Oculist  to  the  Prince  of  Wales — Wil- 
liam Oldys,  Esq.  &c.    -  -  -  -  -  -22 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.  James  Brooke — Mrs.  Pritchard,  the  Actress — Mrs.  Brooke,  &c.  29 

CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Pratt — Mr.  Sayers — Miss  Seward — Mrs.  Angelica  Kauffman,  &c.  33 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Mr.  Henry  Griffith — Reddish,  the  Actor— William  Donaldson,  Esq. — 
Lucy  Cooper  and  Richardson — Miss  Graham — Miss  Faulkener,  after- 
ward Mrs.  Graham — Mr.  Peter  Bardin — Sir  Henry  Moore — Constantia 
Phillips — Machine,  the  Highwayman — Mr.  Owen  RufThead — An  ex- 
traordinary Story — Another  extraordinary  Story,  &c.     -  -  38 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Dr.  Monsey — Sir  Benjamin  Wrench — Sir  Robert  Walpole — Lord  Towns- 
hend— The  Duke  of  Marlborough— The  Duchess— The  Earl  of  Godol- 
phin — Lord  Walsingham — Dr.  Monsey  and  Mrs.  Garrick — Dr.  Wolcot, 
Mrs.  Billington  and  Curran — Dr.  Warburton  and  Quin — Character  of 
Warburton — Mr.  Boswell,  junior — Dr.  Monsey 's  Daughter — Mrs.  Mon- 
tague— Conyers  Middleton  and  "  Old  Chubb,"  &,c.      -  -  49 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mr.  Hugh  Kelly— Mrs.  Dancer,  the  Actress— Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley- 
Mr.  Richardson's  Challenge  to  him — Mr.  Brereton,  the  Irish  Duel- 
list, &c.  -  -  -  -  -  .  -  63 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Dr.  Oliver  Goldsmith— John  Wilkes,  &c.  -  -  -  -  G8 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Earl  of  Chatham— The  Abbe  Sechard— Lady  Wallace— Mr.  Fox 
and  the  Whigs— Mr.  Burke,  &,c.  -  -  -  73 

CHAPTER  XL 

Francis  North,  Earl  of  Guildford — Mr.  John  Kemble — Miss  Phillips — 
Mr.  Kemble  and  Dr.  Charles  Burney — Mr.  Kemble  and  the  Hon.  Mr. 
St.  John — Tickel  and  Sheridan,  &.c.    -  -  -  79 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Rev.  William  Peters — His  acquaintance  and  quarrel  with  Mr.  William 
Gifford — Mr.  John  Home  Tooke,  &c.  -  -  89 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Edward  Jerninghara,  Esq.,  &c.    -  -  -  -  96 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Charles  Townley,  Esq.— Miss  Pond— Mr.  O'Brien,  the  Actor— Mr.  Bat- 
tishill — Dr.  Shebbeare — Mr.  Tetherington — Coan,  the  Dwarf — Lady 

W  and  Colonel  Bloomfield — Mr.  Pitt  and  the  Duchess  of  Gordon 

— Dignum — Dr.  Johnson — Buckhorse,  &c.      ...  104 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Thomson  the  Poet — His  Wife — Mr.  George  Chalmers — Hugh  Boyd  and 
his  Daughter — Mr.  Gerard  Hamilton  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond, 
&,c.    -  -  -  -  -  -  -  110 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mr.  Arthur  Murphy— Mr.  Jesse  Foot  and  Mr.  Fazakerly — Miss  Elliot — 
Mrs.  Jordan,  &c.       -  -  -  -  -  -114 

CHAPTER  XVII. 


Mrs.  Macaulay — Dr.  Graham — Dr.  Birch — Lord  Chesterfield  and  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough — Jack  Spencer,  &,c.  -  -  -  123 


CONTENTS. 


vii 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Mr.  James  Boswell — Mr.  Windham  and  Dr.  Johnson — Sir  Alexander 
Boswell — Mr.  James  Boswell,  junior — Dr.  Glover — Mrs.  Kelly — Mr. 
Akerman — Mr.  Stephen  Kemble — Mr.  Davenport,  &c.  -  126 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Rev.  Thomas  Maurice — Dr.  Parr — Dr.  Johnson — Thomas  Tyers — Wil- 
liam Taylor,  Esq. — Professor  Porson — Mr.  James  Perry,  &c.    -  133 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Mr.  Samuel  Ireland — Shakspeare's  MS.  Play  of  "  Vortigern  and  Rowena" 
— Mr.  John  Ireland  —  Hewardine — Cervetto — Jervas,  the  Painter, 
&c.    -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  141 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Ozias  Humphrey,  R.A. — Mr.  Caleb  Whitefoord— Colley  Cibber,  &c.  148 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Mrs.  Cornelys — Miss  Cornelys — Miss  Williams,  &c.       -  -  153 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Haydn,  the  Composer — Anthony  Pasquin — Mrs.  Abington — Mr.  West, 
Pres.  R.A. — Mr.  Jay,  the  American  Minister,  &c.       -  -  168 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Walking  Stewart,  &c.  -  -  -  -  -  163 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Mr.  John  Opie,  R.A.— -Dr.  Wolcot— Fuseli— Mrs.  Opie— Mr.  North- 
cote,  &c.       -------  169 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Mr.  Richard  Owen  Cambridge — Mr.  James  Cobb — Mr.  Prince  Hoare — 
Major  Grose — Mr.  Henry  James  Pye — Mr.  Barfed — Lord  Darnley  and 
Mrs.  Woffington — Garnck  and  Berenger — Garrick  and  Barry,  &-c.  176 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Capability  Brown — Sir  Charles  Bamfield — Mr.  John  Kemble — Handel 
and  Dean  Swift — Dr.  Morell  and  Handel — Reverse  of  Fortune — Mrs. 
Batiman — Chevalier  D'Eon — General  Paoli,  &c.         -  -  187 


Viii  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
Garrick  and  Dr.  Monsey — Mrs.  Clive — Garrick,  &c.        -  -  194 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Barry,  the  Actor — Mrs.  Crawford,  afterward  Mrs.  Barry — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Yates — Hurst — Hallam — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross,  &c.        -  -  199 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Shuter — Hippsley  and  Mrs.  Green — Tom  Lowe — Peter  Bardin,  &c.  207 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

John  Henderson — Mr.  T.  Sheridan — Tom  Davies — Mr.  Becket,  the  Book- 
seller— *'  The  Pursuits  of  Literature" — Rowley  and  Chattertoo — Mr. 
William  Boscawen— Mr.  W.  T.  Fitz  Gerald-'-Mr.  H.  J.  Pye— Tom 
King — Miss  Baker — Doctor  Hoadley,  M.D.  &c.  -  -  212 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Mrs.  Inchbald — Mr.  Justice  Hardinge,  &c.  -  -  -  223 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Mrs.  Abington — Miss  Farren,  &c.  -  -  -  230 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Holman  and  "The  Glorious  Eight" — Quick — Terry — Emery — Bensley, 
&,c.  -  -  -  -  -  235 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Lewis,  a  Provincial  Actor — Dagger  Marr — Garrick  and  Dr.  Monsey — 
Parsons — Edwin — Moody,  &,c.  -  242 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Charles  Macldin,  &c.  247 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan  — Tom  King — Woodward — William  Lewis — Bibb, 
the  Engraver,  &c.      -----  -  255 

CHAPTER  XXXVHI. 

Tom  Davies— Mr.  George  Steevens— John  Palmer,  &c.      -       -  264 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
Mr.  John  Kemble— Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hull— Gentleman  Smith,  &c.    -  269 
CHAPTER  XL. 

King  Gibson — Ridout— Mr.   Walker — Quin — Mr.  Ince — Mrs.  Clive, 
<fec.  -  -  -  -  -  -  280 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Mrs.  Siddons — Mr.  Waldron — Admiral  Schank — Suett — John  Kemble — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kemble — Dodd,  &c.       -  -  286 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Madame  Mara — Mrs.  Billington — John  Johnstone — Mr.  O'Keeffe — Mrs. 
Daly,  &,c.  -  -  -         -  -  -  294 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Michael  Kelly — Mrs.  Crouch — John  Kemble — Bannister — Mr.  Sheridan 
— Mr.  Richardson — Mrs.  Horrebow,  &c.        ...  302 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

George  Cooke — Miss  Dunwell — Mrs.  Cooke — Usher-  John  Palmer — 
Kean — Henry  and  George  Saville  Carey — Barrymore,  &c.       -  310 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Bensley — Charles  Bannister — Robert  Palmer — Quick — Mrs.  Bembridgo 
— Anecdote  of  Shakspeare — Anecdote  of  Cromwell — Mr.  Malone's 
Opinion  of  it — Queen  Elizabeth  and  Shakspeare,  &c.    -  -  318 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Mr.  Richard  Cumberland — Con.  Jackson — Mr.  Richardson — Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, and  Mr.  Shaw  the  Musician,  &c.  -  -  -  327 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Mr.  Sheridan — His  Illness  and  Death,  &c.  -  -  -  336 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Barber  the  Watchmaker,  and  Dr.  Monsey — Mr.  Windham — Sir  Joseph 
Mawbey — Sir  George  Howard— Mr.  Burke — Junius's  Letters,  &,c.  340 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Voltaire— Charles  XII.  of  Sweden — Francis  Newbery,  Esq. — Andrew 
Bain,  M.D.— Mr.  Christie,  &c.  ....  347 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  L. 

Sir  Home  Popham — Sir  Thomas  Boulden  Thompson — Mr.  Franks — Mr. 
John  Reeves — Mr.  John  Bowles — Mr.  William  Shield — Monk  Lewis — 
Colonel  Frederick,  &c.  -  -  -  -  -  353 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Dr.  Wolcot,  &c.  ------  362 

CHAPTER  LET. 

Mr.  William  Woodfall— Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall— Mr.  George 
Woodfall,  son  of  preceding — Junius's  Letters,  &c.       -  -  371 

CHAPTER  LHI. 

Mr.  Sheridan— The  Author  appointed  Editor  of  "  The  Morning  Post" — 
Mr.  Merry—Mr.  John  Gifford,  &c.  -  -  -  380 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

Lord-chancellor  Yorke — Bishop  of  Peterborough — William  Wordsworth, 
Esq.,  &c.  -  -  -  -  -  -  390 

CHAPTER  LV. 

Rev.  Charles  Este — Mr.  Topham — Mr.  Peter  Andrews — Jacobin  James 
— Rev.  John  Warner,  &c.       -  394 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

John  Nicholls,  Esq. — Mr.  Matthews — William  Clay,  Esq. — Singular 
Event  in  Hyde  Park,  &c.        -  404 

CHAPTER  LVII. 
Rev.  William  Jackson — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mills — Mrs.  Ferguson,  &c.  410 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 
George  Chalmers,  Esq. — Alexander  Chalmers,  Esq.,  &c.  -         -  418 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

Jew  King — Lady  Lanesborough— Lord  Falkland — Mrs.  Grattan — Jack- 
son of  Exeter— Mr.  Davy,  &c.  -  422 

CHAPTER  LX. 

Lord  Byron,  &c.         ------  426 


I'  ■  ' 

CONTENTS.  Xi 

CHAPTER  LXI. 
The  Earl  of  Eldon— The  Earl  of  Coventry— Samuel  Foote,  &c.   -  431 

CHAPTER  LXII. 
William  Cooke,  Esq. — Rev  Dr.  Symmons,  &c.  -  435 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

Dr.  Arnold — Sir  John  and   Miss   Oldmixon — William  GhTord,  Esq., 
&c.     -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  439 

CHAPTER  LXIV. 

Dr.  Burnet,  Bishop  of  Cloyne — George  Colman  the  Younger — Thomas 
Harris,  Esq.,  &c.       ------  442 

CHAPTER  LXV. 

Joseph  Planta,  Esq. — Rev.  Henry  Stephens — Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
&c.     -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  446 

CHAPTER  LXVI. 

Mr.  James  Hook — His  sons  James  and  Theodore — W.  T.  Fitzgerald, 
Esq. — Rev.  David  Williams — Mr.  Boscawen,  &c.        -  -  450 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

John  Crowder,  Esq. — Dr.  William  Thomson — Bevy  Pearce — Dr.  Hill — 
Mrs.  Hill,  &c.   -  -  -         -  -         -  456 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

[  When  I  said  I  would  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not 
Think  I  should  live  'till  I  were  married. 

Benedict. 

This  passage  from  our  unrivalled  bard  is  applicable  to  myself  with 
reference  to  the  purpose  of  the  present  work,  as  well  as  to  my  mat- 
rimonial engagements.  As  early  as  I  can  remember,  I  saw,  or  thought 
I  saw,  so  much  infelicity  in  the  marriage  state,  that  I  conceived  a  de- 
gree of  horror  against  wedlock.  It  may  appear  strange,  but  I  actually 
trace  the  origin  of  my  aversion  to  matrimony  even  so  far  back  as 
when  I  was  only  seven  years  of  age. 

I  was  at  that  period  of  life  with  my  dear  departed  mother,  at 
Lynn,  in  Norfolk,  accompanying  my  grandfather,  the  Chevalier  Tay- 
lor, on  his  revisiting  his  native  country.  She  took  me  to  the  play- 
house, which  was  then  open  in  that  town.  The  play,  as  I  was  after- 
ward informed,  was  "  The  Jealous  Wife."  I  now  well  remember 
that  the  violent  temper  of  Mrs.  Oakley,  and  the  patient  efforts  of  her 
husband  to  remove  her  jealousy,  made  such  an  impression  upon  my 
mind,  as  excited  the  disgust  which  1  have  mentioned,  and  which  could 
only  be  subdued  by  the  merits  of  the  two  amiable  partners  to  whom 
I  have  since  been  united.  The  afterpiece  was  "  Hob  in  the  Well," 
and  when  Hob's  parents  came  in  search  of  him,  and  expressed  great 
anxiety  to  find  him,  1  started  from  my  seat  in  the  pit  and  exclaimed, 
"  He  is  in  the  well !"  The  audience,  I  understood,  enjoyed  a  hearty 
laugh  at  my  innocence  and  simplicity. 

As  therefore,  notwithstanding  my  aversion  to  wedlock,  I  have  been 
twice  married,  I  may  truly  say,  that  I  had  equal  repugnance  to  the 
idea  of  obtruding  any  circumstance  of  my  humble  life  upon  the  world 
at  large.  The  pecuniary  shock,  however,  which  I  suffered  from  the 
perfidy  of  a  deceased  partner  in  the  Sun  newspaper,  and  the  advice 
of  friends,  who  think  too  favourably  of  me,  have  induced  me  to  take 
up  the  egotistical  pen.  Here,  perhaps,  some  satirical  critic  will  quote 
Pope,  and  hint,  "  Obliged  by  hunger  and  request  of  friends."  Well, 
I  shall  answer  in  the  words  of  my  old  friend  Sheridan,  "  I  can  laugh 
at  his  malice  though  not  at  his  wit."   I  received  besides  an  intimation 


14 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


from  an  eminent  publisher,  that  he  would  be  glad  if  I  would  engage 
in  such  a  work  as  the  present. 

Never  conceiving  it  possible  that  I  should  adopt  such  a  measure,  I 
had  made  no  kind  of  preparation,  and  must  resort  to  my  memory 
for  such  facts  as  may  present  themselves,  without  the  regularity  of 
dates,  contenting  myself  with  rigid  accuracy  in  my  recitals  of  what 
has  fallen  within  my  own  notice,  or  what  I  have  derived  from  others 
on  whose  veracity  I  could  depend.  Dates,  indeed,  can  be  of  no  im- 
portance in  such  matters  as  I  have  to  relate.  I  have  therefore  no  oc- 
casion to  regret  that  I  have  not  followed  the  example  of  those  who 
record  the  events  of  every  day,  lest,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  they 
should  be  involved  in  circumstances  for  which  they  might  be  unable 
to  account,  and  consequently  be  exposed  to  perplexing  contingencies, 
or  to  the  misrepresentations  of  malice. 

44  The  little  hero  of  his  tale"  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  men- 
tion his  origin.  I  am  the  eldest  son  of  Mr.  John  Taylor,  who  for 
many  years  practised  the  profession  of  an  oculist  with  the  highest  repu- 
tation, and  a  character  universally  respected  in  private  life  for  integ- 
rity :  he  was  also  admired  for  his  wit  and  humour.  My  father  was 
the  only  son  of  the  celebrated  Chevalier  Taylor,  who  was  a  pupil  o£ 
the  famous  Mr.  Cheselden.  My  grandfather,  however,  relinquished 
the  general  profession  of  a  surgeon,  and  confined  himself  wholly  to 
that  of  an  oculist.  He  was  appointed  oculist  to  King  George  the 
Second,  and  afterward  to  every  crowned  head  in  Europe. 

I  was  born  in  a  house  which  my  father  occupied  at  Highgate.  He 
"had  another  at  the  same  time  in  Hatton  Garden.  His  household,  as  I 
tifterward  understood,  consisted  of  two  female  servants  and  one  foot- 
boy.  He  married  early  in  life  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  trades- 
man, but  as  he  was  not  sufficiently  established  in  his  profession  to  bear 
the  probable  expense  of  an  increasing  family,  my  maternal  grandfather 
strongly  opposed  their  union,  and  they  were  obliged  to  court  in  se- 
crecy. Strange  to  say,  the  place  which  they  chose  for  their  court- 
ship was  Bedlam,  where,  at  that  time,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  metrop- 
olis, casual  visiters  were  admitted  for  a  penny  each. 

At  length  the  respectable  character  of  my  father,  and  his  attention 
to  his  profession,  induced  my  grandfather  to  give  his  consent  to  the 
marriage.  I  was  the  first  offspring  of  this  union,  and  as  it  appeared 
in  due  time  that  my  father's  family  was  likely  to  increase,  Mr.  Foot, 
the  uncle  of  my  late  friend  Jesse  Foot,  reflecting  on  the  uncertain  pro- 
fession of  an  oculist,  advised  him  to  contract  his  establishment  in  the 
following  terms :  "  Taylor,  you  begin  where  you  should  end."  Find- 
ing the  expense  of  a  growing  family  increase  in  proportion,  my  mother 
adding  to  it  every  year,  my  father  took  his  advice,  discharged  his  foot- 
boy,  disposed  of  his  one-horse  chaise,  a  common  vehicle  at  that  time, 
relinquished  his  cottage  at  Highgate,  and  finally  settled  wholly  in  Hat- 
ton-garden,  where  he  resided  till  his  death,  in  the  year  1787.  He  had* 
been  educated  at  Paris,  was  a  good  French  and  Latin  scholar,  and 
was  much  admired  for  his  quickness  at  repartee.  All  the  rest  of  his 
children,  amounting  to  eleven,  were  born  in  Hatton  Garden.  Five  died 


DERRICK  AND  MRS.  LESSINGHAM. 


15 


in  infancy,  but  six  were  alive  at  his  death,  and  now  my  sister  and 
myself  are  the  only  survivors.  The  affection  of  my  sister,  together 
with  her  merits,  both  moral  and  intellectual,  in  a  great  degree  com- 
pensate for  the  loss  of  the  rest. 

My  father's  first  great  patient  was  the  Duke  of  Ancaster,  who  es- 
teemed him  as  a  companion,  and  had  often  invited  him  to  pass  the 
Christmas  holidays  at  his  seat  in  Lincolnshire.  The  duke  had  nearly 
succeeded  in  procuring  for  him  the  honour  of  being  oculist  to  King 
George  the  Third,  but  the  Duke  of  Bedford  having  had  an  operation 
for  the  cataract  successfully  performed  by  the  Baron  de  Wenzel,  ob- 
tained the  appointment  for  the  baron. 

My  second  brother,  who  was  a  member  of  the  College  of  Surgeons,, 
and  myself,  on  the  death  of  the  baron,  were  appointed  to  the  situation, 
by  the  late  Earl  of  Salisbury,  who  was  then  lord  chamberlain. 

It  may  be  observed,  in  reference  to  Mr.  Foot,  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned, that  people  may  give  good  advice  without  being  able  to  adopt 
it.  He  was  a  respectable  apothecary  in  Hatton  Garden,  and  accord- 
ing to  report,  had  accumulated  about  twelve  thousand  pounds,  but 
having  ventured  it  in  an  unsuccessful  speculation,  he  lost  it  all,  and,, 
as  the  phrase  is,  died  broken-hearted.  My  late  frienH  Jesse  Foot, 
his  nephew,  had  been  apprenticed  to  him.  The  uncle  was  reserved 
and  churlish;  the  nephew  had  then  the  same  sturdy  independent 
spirit  which  marked  his  character  through  life.  When  the  uncle 
uttered  any  complaint,  Jesse,  who  was  a  scholar,  always  answered 
him  in  Latin,  and  as  the  former  was  but  little  acquainted  with  that 
language,  it  always  put  an  end  to  his  complaints,  and  induced  him  to 
quit  the  field.  Jesse,  however,  assured  me  that  he  should  not  have 
answered  in  this  manner  if  his  uncle  had  not  complained  rather  to 
show  his  authority  than  to  correct  any  errors. 

All  that  I  can  recollect  to  have  heard  of  what  passed  in  my  infancy  ^ 
was,  that  my  father  was  intimate  with  Derrick  the  poet,  as  he  was 
then  called,  and  that  Derrick  introduced  a  lady  to  my  father  and 
mother  as  his  wife  who,  it  afterward  appeared  was  not  so,  and  that 
then,  so  far  as  the  lady  was  concerned,  the  connexion  with  my  family 
ended. 

This  lady,  many  years  after,  appeared  on  the  stage  under  the  name 
of  Mrs.  Lessingham,  and  was  a  comic  actress  of  merit,  as  well  as  a 
very  pretty  woman.  She  was  an  extraordinary  character,  and  one 
of  her  whims  was  to  assume  man's  attire  and  frequent  the  coffee- 
houses, after  her  separation  from  Derrick. 

As  Derrick  wholly  depended  on  his  literary  talents,  he  could  not 
afford  an  expensive  habitation,  and  therefore  resided  with  Mrs.  Les- 
singham, his  nominal  wife,  in  a  floor  two  pair  of  stairs  high,  in  Shoe- 
lane,  Holborn.  During  their  residence  in  this  place,  as  the  lady  felt 
a  strong  propensity  towards  the  stage,  Derrick  took  great  pains  to 
prepare  her  for  the  theatrical  profession.  Her  talents  were  not  at 
all  directed  towards  tragedy,  but  she  was,  as  I  have  already  said,  a 
good  comic  actress.  I  particularly  recollect  her  performance  of  Mrs. 
Sullen,  and  as  there  was  ;.o  restraint  of  delicacy  on  her  mind,  she 

B2 


16 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


took  care  to  give  some  of  the  more  prurient  passages  in  the  character 
with  all  due  point  and  effect. 

When  Derrick  used  to  visit  my  father's  cottage  at  Highgate,  after 
a  rural  walk  by  himself,  as  there  was  no  spare-bed  in  the  house,  he 
was  accustomed  to  sleep  in  my  cradle,  with  his  legs  resting  on  a 
chair  at  the  bottom.    He  was  a  very  little  man. 

As  his  supposed  wife  was  very  pretty,  and  not  likely  to  hold  out 
against  a  siege  of  gallantry,  it  is  not  surprising  that  she  was  tempted 
to  desert  a  poor  poet,  and  a  two-pair  of  stairs  floor,  in  a  low  neigh- 
bourhood. As  far  as  her  history  was  generally  known,  she  perhaps 
might  have  had  as  many  lovers  as  Anacreon  boasts  of  mistresses, 
though  perhaps  she  could  not  so  accurately  recollect  the  number. 
One  circumstance  of  her  conduct  ought  to  be  mentioned,  as  it  illus- 
trates the  character  of  women  of  her  description,  and  may  operate 
as  a  warning  to  those  who  are  likely  to  be  ensnared  by  purchasable 
beauty.  She  had  been  separated  from  Derrick  many  years.  In  the 
mean  time  he  had  become  generally  known,  and  was  countenanced 
by  Dr.  Johnson,  to  whom  it  is  said,  he  suggested  the  omission  of  the 
word  ocean  in  the  first  edition  of  his  celebrated  Dictionary. 

Mrs.  Lessingham  had  risen  on  the  stage,  and  was  reported  to  be  a 
favourite  with  the  manager.  She  kept  an  elegant  house  in  a  fashion- 
able part  of  the  town.  Derrick,  at  this  time,  was  able  to  support 
himself  by  his  connexion  with  the  booksellers,  and  by  his  literary  pro- 
ductions ;  and,  without  any  pecuniary  views,  he  was  desirous  to  renew 
an  acquaintance  with  his  former  pseudo-spouse.  He  therefore  called 
on  her,  and  sent  up  his  name  by  her  superb  footman.  The  lady 
declared  that  she  knew  no  person  of  that  name,  and  ordered  the  ser- 
vant immediately  to  dismiss  him.  Derrick,  conceiving  that  the  man 
must  have  committed  some  mistake,  insisted  on  seeing  the  lady.  At 
length  she  came  forward  in  sight  of  Derrick,  called  him  an  impudent 
fellow,  and  threatened  to  send  for  a  constable  unless  he  left  the  house. 
'  This  unexpected  reception  from  a  woman  who  had  lived  with  him 
some  years,  had  borne  his  name,  and  by  whose  instruction  she  had 
been  able  to  become  a  popular  actress,  and  to  rise  into  affluence, 
affected  him  so  much  that  he  was  quite  overcome,  and  immediately 
departed,  though  "  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger." 

Derrick,  after  his  separation  from  Mrs.  Lessingham,  or  rather  her 
desertion  of  him.  lived  in  respectable  society,  and  must  have  conducted 
himself  properly,  as  he  formed  many  fashionable  connexions,  who 
exerted  themselves  with  so  much  zeal  in  his  favour  as  to  procure  for 
him  the  situation  of  master  of  the  ceremonies  at  Bath.  He  had  pre- 
viously published  a  volume  of  his  poems,  and  as  there  were  a  con- 
siderable number  of  subscribers,  they  afford  an  evident  testimony  in 
favour  of  hk  character. 

Like  most  of  those  who  rise  from  obscurity,  he  was,  on  his  eleva- 
tion at  Bath,  very  fond  of  pomp  and  show.  His  dress  was  always 
fine,  and  he  kept  a  footman  almost  as  fine  as  himself.  When  he  visited 
London,  his  footman  always  walked  behind  him,  and  to  show  that  he 
was  his  servant,  he  generally  crossed  the  streets  several  times,  that 


DERRICK  AND  MRS.  LES  SIN  GUAM. 


17 


the  man  might  be  seen  to  follow  him.  Derrick,  I  understand,  was 
lively,  but  too  familiar  in  his  conversation ;  and  Mr.  Oldys,  the  cele- 
brated literary  antiquary,  another  intimate  friend  of  my  father,  who 
lived  before  my  remembrance,  thought  him  a  flippant  fellow,  never 
spoke  when  Derrick  was  in  the  room,  and  when  addressed  by  him, 
gave  him  short  and  discouraging  answers.  As  Derrick  honoured  my 
birth  by  an  ode,  it  would  be  ungrateful  in  me  not  to  rescue  so  sublime 
a  composition  from  oblivion,  as  perhaps  no  other  production  of  his 
muse  is  now  extant. 

ODB. 

Muse,  give  Dr.  Taylor  joy, ' 
For  Dr.  Taylor  has  a  boy; 
Little  Nancy  brought  him  forth, 
Nancy,  dame  of  mighty  worth  ; 
May  he  like  his  mother  shine, 
Who  can  boast  of  charms  divine  ; 
Proving  like  his  father  wise, 
Always  prompt  to  mind  his  eyes  ; 
And  may  fortune  in  her  flight, 
Always  keep  the  child  in  sight. 

Derrick  published  four  volumes  of  the  poetical  works  of  Dryden, 
which  were  the  first  collection  of  that  author's  poems.  They  are 
referred  to  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  life  of  Dryden.  Derrick,  in  his 
own  volume  of  poems,  introduced  the  following  lines  as  a  genuine 
production  of  Pope,  and  as  they  have  not  appeared  in  any  edition  of 
Pope's  works,  and  as  it  might  now  be  difficult  to  find  Derrick's 
volume,  they  may  not  improperly  be  introduced  in  this  place. 

IMPROMPTU.  ! 

By  Mr.  Pope,  on  sleeping  in  a  bed  belonging  to  John  Duke  of  Argyle.  ] 

With  no  poetic  ardours  fir'd, 

I  press  the  bed  where  Wilmot  lay  ; 
That  here  he  lov'd,  or  here  expir'd, 

Begets  no  numbers,  grave  or  gay. 
Beneath  thy  roof,  Argyle,  are  bred 

Such  thoughts  as  prompt  the  brave  to  lie 
Stretch'd  forth  on  honour's  nobler  bed 

Beneath  a  nobler  roof,  the  sky. 

When  Derrick  died  I  know  not,  and  I  should  not  revert  to  Mrs, 
Lessingham,  if  she  had  not  been  so  conspicuous  in  her  day,  and  if 
her  example  did  not  hold  forth  a  lesson  against  the  influence  of 
beauty  devoid  of  moral  principles.  The  manager  before  mentioned 
was  very  much  attached  to  her,  and  she  might  have  closed  her  days 
with  as  much  comfort  as  intrusive  retrospection,  if  ever  it  did  intrude 
upon  her,  would  admit,  as  he  was  a  gentleman,  shrewd,  intelligent, 
and  well  acquainted  with  the  world.  She  had  two  or  three  sons  by 
him,  who  bore  a  satisfactory  resemblance  to  the  father,  if  indeed 
such  mothers  ever  can  be  trusted. 

It  was  said,  that  after  her  desertion  of  Derrick,  she  was  married  to 


18 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


■a  naval  gentleman  named  Stott ;  and  was  subsequently  under  the 
protection  of  Admiral  Boscawen.  No  doubt  she  had  listened  to  the 
addresses  of  many  others  who  had  no  reason  to  consider  themselves 
as  despairing  lovers.  The  only  improbable  part  of  her  acting  in  the 
character  of  Mrs.  Sullen  was  in  the  chamber  scene  with  Archer, 
as  from  her  general  manner  it  did  not  seem  likely  that  she  should  re- 
sist his  importunities  when  he  appeared  as  a  gentleman. 

The  theatrical  manager  had  built  a  house  for  her  on  Hampstead 
Heath,  in  a  romantic  and  retired  situation,  as  well  as  supported  her  in 
her  town  residence,  but  nothing  could  control  the  inconstancy  of  her 
nature.  Why,  or  when  she  left  that  gentleman,  I  never  knew  ;  for, 
though  I  was  very  intimate  with  him,  her  name  never  occurred  be- 
tween us.  After  she  quilted  him,  she  was  sometime  protected,  as 
the  delicate  term  is,  by  the  late  Justice  Addington,  whom  she  deserted 
for  a  young  man  engaged  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  styled  by 
his  theatrical  associates  the  teapot  actor,  as  his  attitudes  seemed  to 
be  generally  founded  on  the  model  of  that  useful  vehicle  of  domestic 
refreshment.  The  justice  never  mentioned  her  after  but  by  the  most 
opprobrious  appellations. 


CHAPTER  II. 

It  is  now  time  for  me  to  return  to  what  Mr.  Gibbon  styles  "  the 
vainest  and  most  disgusting  of  the  pronouns/'  though  certainly  not  so 
in  the  estimation  of  the  late  Lord  Erskine.  All  that  I  know  of  my 
ancestors, — to  adopt  a  word  of  importance  to  the  proud,  who  think 
with  Dr.  Young  that 

They  who  on  glorious  ancestors  enlarge 
Produce  their  debt  instead  ot*  a  discharge, — 

I  learned  from  Dr.  Monsey,  one  of  my  father's  earliest  and  warmest 
friends,  who  informed  me  that  my  great-grandfather  was  an  eminent 
surgeon  at  Norwich,  and  highly  respected  in  his  private,  as  well  as 
professional  character.  He  had  so  grave  and  dignified  an  aspect  and 
demeanour,  that  the  superstitious  among  his  neighbours  imputed 
supernatural  knowledge  to  him,  and  upon  any  disasters  and  losses 
consulted  him  as  a  conjuror.  No  mistake  of  that  kind  was  ever 
made  respecting  any  other  part  of  our  family  that  I  ever  heard  of. 

Dr.  Monsey  related  the  following  story  as  a  proof  of  my  great- 
grandfather's reputation  for  supernatural  knowledge  and  wisdom.  A 
countryman  had  lost  a  silver  spoon,  and  excited  by  my  venerable 
grandsire's  reputed  powers  above  the  ordinary  race  of  mankind, 
waited  on  him,  requesting  to  know  whether  or  not  the  spoon  had  been 
stolen,  and,  if  so,  desiring  that  he  would  enable  him  to  discover  the 


THE  CHEVALIER  TAYLOR. 


tfoief.  The  old  gentleman  took  him  into  a  garret  which  contained 
nothing  but  an  old  chest  of  drawers,  telling  the  simple  rustic,  that  in 
order  to  effect  the  discovery  he  must  raise  the  devil,  asking  him  if  he 
had  resolution  enough  to  face  so  formidable  and  terrific  an  appear- 
ance. The  countryman  assured  him  that  he  had,  as  his  conscience- 
was  clear,  and  he  could  defy  the  devil  and  all  his  works.  The  sur- 
geon, after  an  awful  warning,  bade  him  open  the  first  drawer,  and  tell 
what  he  saw.  The  man  did  so,  and  answered  "  Nothing."  "  Then," 
said  the  reputed  seer, <;  he  is  not  there."  The  old  gentleman,  again 
exhorting  the  man,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  to  summon  all  his 
fortitude  for  the  next  trial,  directed  him  to  open  the  second  drawer. 
The  man  did  so,  with  unshaken  firmness,  and  in  answer  to  the  same 
question  repeated  "  Nothing."  The  venerable  old  gentleman  simply 
said,  "  Then  he  is  not  there  ;"  but,  with  increased  solemnity,  endea- 
voured to  impress  the  sturdy  hind  with  such  awe  as  to  induce  him  to 
forbear  from  further  inquiry,  but  in  vain  ;  conscious  integrity  fortified 
his  mind,  and  he  determined  to  abide  the  event.  My  worthy  an- 
cestor then,  with  an  assumed  expression  of  apprehension  himself,  or- 
dered him  to  prepare  for  the  certain  appearance  of  the  evil  spirit  on 
opening  the  third  drawer.  The  countryman,  undismayed,  resolutely 
pulled  open  the  drawer,  and  being  asked  what  he  saw,  said,  "  I  see 
nothing  but  an  empty  purse." — "  Well,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  and  is  not 
that  the  devil  ?"  The  honest  countryman  had  sense  enough  to  per- 
ceive the  drift  of  this  ludicrous  trial,  and  immediately  proclaimed  it 
over  the  city  of  Norwich.  The  result  was  that  my  venerable  and 
humorous  ancestor  was  never  again  troubled  with  an  appeal  to  his 
divining  faculty  and  magical  power,  but  was  still  more  respected  for 
the  good  sense  and  whimsical  manner  in  which  he  had  annihilated  his 
supernatural  character,  and  descended  into  a  mere  mortal. 

Such  is  the  account  of  my  great-grandfather,  and  I  never  en- 
deavoured, nor  am  I  in  the  least  solicitous,  to  trace  the  line  to  a  more 
distant  genealogy.  This  sagacious  and  sportive  surgeon  had  two 
sons,  one  who  was  afterward  so  well  known  to  the  world  as  the 
celebrated  Chevalier  Taylor,  and  the  principal  oculist  of  his  time. 
He  was  not  only  oculist  to  King  George  the  Second,  but  to  every 
sovereign  in  Europe.  He  published  more  than  forty  tracts,  in  all  the 
continental  languages,  on  the  structure,  disorders,  and  treatment  of 
diseased  eyes,  which  received  the  approbation  of  the  best  authorities. 

When  my  grandfather  solicited  the  honour  of  being  appointed 
oculist  to  Frederick  the  Great,  King  of  Prussia,  that  monarch  granted 
his  request,  but  would  not  permit  him  to  practise  in  his  dominions, 
alleging  that  he  should  take  care  of  the  eyes  of  his  subjects  himself, 
that  they  might  see  no  more  than  was  necessary  for  the  interest  and 
glory  of  their  country.  It  was,  however,  understood  that  the  monarch 
had  been  told  that  to  admit  a  foreigner  to  practise  would  be  throwing 
an  odium  on  the  medical  professors  of  his  own  territories. 

The  chevalier,  whom  I  was  too  young  to  remember,  was.  I  have 
always  heard,  a  tall,  handsome  man,  and  a  great  favourite  with  the 
ladies.    He  was  much  addicted  to  splendour  in  dress,  and  to  an 


20 


BECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


expensive  style  of  domestic  expenditure  ;  otherwise,  with  his  high 
professional  reputation  and  acknowledged  skill,  he  might  no  doubt 
have  left  almost  a  princely  fortune  to  his  family. 

He  published  his  own  memoirs,  in  three  volumes,  in  which  he 
certainly  shows  no  remarkable  diffidence  in  recording  his  own  talents 
and  attainments,  as  well  as  the  influence  of  his  person  and  powers  of 
conversation  on  the  female  sex.  He  had  received  the  rudiments  of 
his  professional  education  under  his  venerable  father  at  Norwich, 
but  afterward  attended  all  the  medical  and  chirurgical  schools  of  the 
metropolis,  and  became,  as  I  have  said,  a  favourite  pupil  of  the 
celebrated  Cheselden,  to  whom  he  dedicated  one  of  his  works  on  the 
disorders  of  the  eyes.  He  not  only  distinguished  himself  as  the  chief 
practical  oculist  of  his  time,  but  also  by  his  profound  knowledge  of 
:he  theory  of  vision,  and  his  illustration  of  the  physiological  use  of  the 
several  component  parts  of  the  organ  of  sight.  The  late  Sir  Walter 
Farquhar  assured  me,  that  he  had  often  seen  him  perform  the  oper- 
ation of  couching,  or  depression,  of  the  cataract ;  that  he  was  most 
sedulous  in  his  attention,  and  that  his  manual  dexterity  appeared  like 
the  touch  of  magic.  He  may  indeed  be  said  to  have  been  born  with 
a  genius  for  his  art.  He  sometimes  adopted  the  present  mode  of 
extracting  the  cataract,  or  opake  crystalline  humour,  but  abandoned 
it  as  less  certaiu  and  more  dangerous  than  depression. 

Many  years  after,  the  celebrated  Percival  Pott,  one  of  the  best 
practical  surgeons,  according  to  general  estimation,  in  this  or  any 
other  country,  published  a  tract  to  demonstrate  the  superior  ad- 
vantage of  depression  ;  but  extraction  became  the  fashion  in  the 
medical  world,  still  maintains  its  ascendency,  and  is  certainly  practised 
"with  great  skill  and  success  by  many  eminent  professors  in  this 
metropolis.  I  wish  they  were  equally  skilful  in  treating  inflammations 
of  the  eye,  or  that  they  never  indulged  themselves  in  experimental 
practices  on  that  essential  organ  of  human  happiness,  as  I  have  seen 
many  dreadful  victims  of  their  injurious  and  destructive  applications,, 
I  may  here  not  improperly  introduce  an  anecdote  relating  to  the 
subject. 

The  Baron  de  Wenzel,  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  had  been  a 
pupil  of  my  grandfather,  who,  on  hearing  of  the  baron's  extraordinary 
fame  in  London,  and  meeting  him  in  company,  privately  hinted  to 
him,  that  when  he  was  his  pupil  he  had  not  discovered  such  docility 
as  to  promise  so  high  a  degree  of  professional  repute.  The  baron? 
piqued  at  this  remark,  pointed  to  his  shoes,  which  were  decorated 
with  brilliant  diamonds,  and  simply  said,  "  regardez  mes  boucles"  but 
evidently  spoke  loud,  in  order  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  company, 
as  well  as  of  my  grandfather.  What  answer  the  chevalier  made  I 
know  not,  but  it  was  probably  very  sharp,  as  he  was  well  known  to 
excel  in  repartee.  The  baron  was  chiefly  raised  into  notice  by  his 
success  in  performing  the  operation  of  extraction  on  the  eyes  of  the 
old  Duke  of  Bedford,  whose  memory  will  ever  live  in  the  Letters  of 
Junius.  The  duke  not  only  rewarded  the  baron  with  five  hundred 
pounds,  but  procured  for  him  the  honour  of  being  oculist  to  his 


IMPOSITION  OF  HENRY  JONES. 


21 


majesty,  which  title  my  grandfather  had  enjoyed  in  the  former  reign. 
On  the  death  of  the  baron,  that  honour,  as  I  said  before,  was  con- 
ferred upon  myself,  and  upon  my  deceased  brother,  who  practised 
in  conjunction  with  me. 

When  my  grandfather  for  the  last  time  quitted  this  country,  as  he 
never  returned  to  it,  I  have  no  recollection  of  his  voice,  and  should 
be  equally  forgetful  of  his  person,  if  he  had  not,  within  six  months 
after  his  departure,  sent  us  a  portrait  of  himself,  painted  at  Rome  by 
the  Chevalier  Rosco :  it  came  while  his  features  were  fresh  upon 
my  memory,  and  was  deemed  by  the  family  a  very  strong  likeness, 
so  strong,  indeed,  as  often  to  cheat  me  into  a  belief  that  I  distinctly 
remembered  the  original.  This  portrait  is  in  my  possession.  It 
represents  him  in  splendid  attire,  and  in  a  dignified  attitude,  holding 
the  instrument  for  couching  in  his  hand,  with  an  artificial  eye,  for  the 
illustration  of  a  lecture  which  he  appears  to  be  delivering.  He  was 
accustomed  to  deliver  lectures  on  the  structure  and  disorders  of  the 
eye,  in  London,  Oxford,  Cambridge,  Edinburgh,  Dublin,  and^all  places 
where  a  learned  and  scientific  audience  mi^ht  be  expected  to  attend. 

He  went  abroad  soon  after  the  publication  of  his  own  memoirs. 
I  remember  to  have  read  a  criticism  on  this  work  in  an  old  number 
of  the  Monthly  Review,  in  which  it  was  said  that  the  chevalier  was 
"  a  coxcomb,  but  a  coxcomb  of  parts."  Not  long  after  there  was  a 
report,  apparently  authentic,  that  he  had  died  abroad,  and  as  he  was 
so  conspicuous  a  character  in  his  day,  my  father  thought  of  writing 
his  life,  simply  detailing  facts,  and  wholly  free  from  that  egotism 
which  certainly  characterized  the  chevalier's  own  biography  ;  and  I 
believe  he  entered  into  an  agreement  for  that  purpose  with  Mr.  Dods- 
lev,  the  predecessor  of  my  late  excellent  friend  Mr.  George  Nicol,  of 
Pall  Mall. 

For  this  purpose  my  father  had  collected  many  curious  particulars, 
among  which  were  several  extraordinary  adventures.  Not  being 
practised  in  literary  pursuits,  he  submitted  these  materials  to  Mr. 
Henry  Jones,  the  author  of  a  tragedy  entitled  "  The  Earl  of  Essex," 
with  whom  he  was  then  intimate.  Jones  was  to  mould  these 
materials  into  a  form  suitable  for  publication,  but  being  a  careless, 
dissipated,  and  unprincipled  man,  he  was  obliged  suddenly  to  leave 
his  lodgings  at  Lambeth,  where  he  was  in  debt  for  rent,  and  fearful 
of  being  discovered  by  other  creditors,  he  left  my  father's  MSS. 
behind,  and  they  were  said  to  have  been  consumed  as  waste  paper. 

My  father,  pursuant  to  his  agreement  with  Mr.  Dodsley,  having 
announced  the  intended  work  in  the  newspapers,  and  having  given 
authority  to  Jones  to  prepare  it  for  publication,  that  profligate  scrib- 
bler impudently  published  a  work  in  two  volumes,  partly  from  the 
recollection  of  my  father's  materials,  but  almost  wholly  of  his  own  in- 
vention, entitled  "The  Life  of  the  Chevalier  Taylor*  written  by  his 
Son."  Shocked  at  this  violation  of  confidence  and  of  friendship,  and 
at  the  low  trash  imputed  to  him,  my  father  exposed  the  imposition  in 
the  daily  newspapers  of  the  time.  But  Jones,  having  been  paid  by 
the  bookseller,  or  rather  by  my  father,  in  advance,  to  stimulate  his 

B3 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


industry,  there  remained  no  remedy  bat  the  uncertain  and  expensive 
course  of  law,  to  which  my  father  was  always  insuperably  averse. 
He,  of  course,  discarded  Jones,  who  thereby  lost  an  hospitable  friend, 
and  who,  after  a  life  of  low  debauchery,  being  found  drunk  under  the 
shambles  in  Newport-market,  was  conveyed  to  St.  Martin's  work- 
house, where  he  soon  after  died. 

Such*  I  understand,  was  the  history  of  the  work,  and  such  the  fate 
of  its  wretched  author.  Jones  had  been  a  bricklayer's  labourer,  but 
having  natural  talents,  he  had  turned  his  attention  to  literature,  if  scrib- 
bling for  newspapers  may  be  so  termed,  in  which  many  of  his  poetical 
trifles  had  been  inserted ;  and  after  the  successful  representation  of 
his  tragedy,  he  attracted  the  notice  of  the  great  Earl  of  Chesterfield. 
He  had  offended  that  nobleman  by  some  profligate  conduct,  and  the 
earl  had  withdrawn  his  patronage.  Jones,  in  order  to  conciliate  his 
benefactor,  addressed  some  verses  to  him,  on  holding  the  knocker  at 
his  gate  without  having  courage  to  make  it  sound,  on  account  of  his 
lordship's  displeasure.  These  verses  restored  him  to  favour,  but  he 
soon  forfeited  it  again  by  a  return  to  his  old  habits  of  dissipation. 

The  late  Rev.  William  Peters,  a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
chaplain  to  that  institution,  a  good  artist,  and  a  particular  friend  of 
mine,  confirmed  all  that  I  had  heard  of  Jones,  who  was  well  known 
to  him.  He  described  Jones  as  an  Irishman,  with  manners  and  accent 
of  the  lowest  people  of  his  country.  He  was  fond  of  poetry  and 
painting,  and  at  every  convivial,  or  rather  drunken  bout,  always  pro- 
posed a  toast  in  their  favour,  pronounced  in  the  following  manner, 
viz :  "  The  Pin  and  the  Pincil."  Mr.  Peters  told  me  that  the  last 
time  he  saw  Jones  was  at  a  respectable  public-house  at  the  corner 
of  Hart- street,  in  Bow-street,  Covent  Garden,  where  the  landlord  had 
just  kicked  him  down  stairs  for  attempting  to  take  liberties  with  his 
Wife. 

The  tragedy  of  "  The  Earl  of  Essex"  was  favourably  received  on 
account  of  its  own  merits,  but  principally  owing  to  the  admirable 
manner  in  which  the  hero  of  the  piece  was  represented  by  my  father's 
and  my  old  friend  Mr.  Ross. 


CHAPTER  III. 

To  return  to  my  grandfather  and  his  family.  He  had  a  brother, 
James  Taylor,  A.  M.  who  entered  into  the  church,  and  became  one 
of  the  chaplains  to  George  the  Second.  He  was  also  chaplain  to  his 
majesty's  own  regiment  of  horse,  and  rector  of  Broadway,  in  the 
county  of  Dorset.  He  published  a  work  entitled  "  Remarks  on  the 
German  Empire ;  with  an  historical  account  of  the  towns  on  the 
Rhine,  and  the  operations  of  the  campaign  in  1743."  His  son,  Philip 
&iley  Taylor,  Esq.  of  Beccles  Hall,  Suffolk,  was  my  godfather.  This 


CHESELDEN  AND  MY  FATHER. 


gentleman,  during  his  permanent  residence  at  his  seat  in  Suffolk,  for 
a  year  or  two  sent  game  to  my  father ;  but,  without  any  difference 
between  them,  all  intercourse  ceased  till  my  grandfather,  the  cheva- 
lier, took  my  mother  and  me  to  his  native  city,  Norwich,  where  I 
understood  his  fame  was  so  widely  spread  that  the  church-bells  were 
rung  on  his  arrival. 

After  passing  some  days  at  Norwich  among  relations  and  friends, 
where  many  patients  attended  him,  he  proceeded  with  us  on  a  visit 
to  his  nephew  at  Beccles  Hall.  All  I  remember  of  the  place  is,  that 
it  was  a  large  mansion,  with  a  spacious  lawn  before  it ;  but  of  the 
tenants  I  have  no  recollection. 

As  my  grandfather  was,  by  all  reports,  a  man  of  extraordinary 
talents,  I  may  be  permitted  to  dwell  a  little  upon  his  character.  He 
was,  it  seems,  very  fond  of  me,  and  wanted  to  take  me  abroad  with 
him,  promising  to  give  me  the  best  education,  and  to  secure  me  a  good 
fortune  ;  but  as  I  was  the  eldest  son,  and  my  father  expected  that  in 
due  time  I  should  be  able  to  assist  him  in  his  profession,  the  offer  was 
declined.  As  a  proof  of  my  grandfathers  fondness  for  me,  he  would, 
throw  himself  on  the  floor  in  his  rich  attire,  suffer  me  to  sit  on  his 
breast  as  if  I  were  on  a  horse,  and  give  his  laced  neckcloth  to  me  to 
hold  as  a  bridle.  I  should  be  ashamed  of  recording  such  trifling  inci- 
dents, if  they  did  not  tend  to  illustrate  my  grandfather's  character. 

It  is  now  time  to  say  something  of  my  father.  Having  struggled 
with  difficulties  in  his  youth,  when  he  left  the  college  Du  Plessis  in 
Faris,  he  came  to  London  and  resided  with  his  mother  till  the  return 
of  the  chevalier,  who  engaged  him  to  assist  him  in  his  profession,  and 
took  pains  to  enable  him  to  advance  his  own  professional  reputation. 
An  incident  occurred  soon  after  my  father's  arrival  in  London,  which 
might  have  been  attended  with  fatal  consequences.  Being  dressed 
in  Parisian  gayety  with  bag  and  sword,  and  walking  through  South- 
wark  fair,  immortalized  by  Hogarth,  he  was  taken  for  a  young  French- 
man. His  fine  white  stockings  were  objects  too  tempting  to  a  mis- 
chievous young  butcher,  who  contrived  to  splash  them  from  the  kennel. 
My  father  was  so  incensed  that  he  drew  his  sword  and  followed  the 
butcher,  who  ran  oft',  and  easily  escaped  among  the  crowd,  otherwise 
my  father  declared  he  was  so  incensed  that  he  should  have  run  him 
through  the  body.  Some  good-natured  people  hearing  him  speak 
with  a  French  accent,  pitied  him  as  a  young  foreigner,  and  soon  ap- 
peased him. 

My  father  wTas  some  time  patronized  by  Cheselden,  who  thought  so 
much  of  his  skill  in  diseases  of  the  eye  that  he  generally  recommended 
patients  to  him.  Cheselden  published  a  tract  relating  an  account  of  his 
own  successful  operation  upon  the  cataracts  of  a  boy  who  was  born 
blind,  and  the  extraordinary  effect  of  sight  upon  the  patient. 

Many  years  after,  a  similar  case  of  a  boy  born  blind  came  under  the 
care  of  my  father,  who  was  equally  successful  in  performing  the  same 
operation,  and  the  result  confirmed  all  that  Mr.  Cheselden  had  stated 
respecting  the  effect  of  novel  vision  on  those  who  are  born  blind.  It 
scarcely  need  be  observed,  that  infants  gradually  acquire  a  knowledge 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


of  external  objects,  but  that  to  those  who  receive  sight  at  a  more  ad-* 
vanced  stage  of  life  all  such  objects  form  nothing  but  a  confused  mass, 
which  they  must  learn  to  discriminate  by  degrees. 

My  fathers  patient  was  a  native  of  Ightham  in  Kent,  and  a  young 
musician,  who,  though  blind,  used  to  perform  during  the  seasons  at 
Tunbridge  and  other  places.  My  father  published  an  account  of  this 
case,  and  it  excited  nearly  as  much  attention  in  the  medical  world  as 
that  of  Mr.  Cheselden.  A  few  of  the  effects  of  the  case  may  be  here 
properly  mentioned.  After  the  boy  had  obtained  some  power  of  dis- 
tinguishing external  objects,  by  feeling  them  for  some  time,  and  look- 
ing hard  at  them,  when  presented  to  him,  it  was  long  before  he  had 
Any  notion  of  distances.  If  he  wanted  to  take  hold  of  any  article  that 
he  saw  on  the  table,  he  generally  made  a  snatch  at  it,  and  on  such 
occasions  darted  his  hand  beyond  the  object  or  before  it,  and  seldom, 
reached  it  till  after  many  attempts.  The  success  of  the  operation  ex- 
cited great  attention  in  the  neighbourhood  where  my  father  resided. 

An  alarming  proof  of  the  patient's  ignorance  of  distances  occurred 
one  night,  which  was  fortunately  observed  by  the  watchman.  The 
boy  was  going,  as  he  stated  afterward,  to  step  from  the  top  of  the 
house  in  Hatton  Garden  over  to  Bartlett's  Buildings,  to  catch  hold  of 
the  moon.  The  watchman,  an  intelligent  man,  who  had  heard  of  the 
case,  luckily  saw  him  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  stepping  forward,  and 
uttered  a  loud  shout,  bidding  him  get  back  into  the  house  immediately. 
The  boy  obeyed,  much  terrified,  and  retreated  into  the  garret.  The 
"watchman  instantly  apprized  the  family  of  what  had  happened,  and 
care  was  taken  to  secure  the  boy  from  the  recurrence  of  any  such 
danger.  The  boy,  after  he  became  familiar  with  his  own  reflection  in 
a.  mirror,  was  fond  of  looking  at  his  image,  which  he  used  to  call 
his  man,  and  said,  "  I  can  make  my  man  do  every  thing  that  I  do  but 
shut  his  eyes."  This  case  excited  so  much  curiosity  and  attention, 
that  Worlidge,  an  eminent  artist  then  in  London,  took  a  drawing  of 
the  patient,  from  which  he  made  an  etching,  and  published  it. 

My  great-grandfather  performed  the  same  operation  a  few  years 
after,  on  a  person  born  blind,  with  the  same  success,  but  the  former 
case  had  been  so  generally  known  that  the  subsequent  one  excited 
httle  attention,  except  among  the  medical  professors.  It  happened 
also  that  the  case  of  a  boy  who  was  born  blind  was  submitted  to  my 
care  ;  and  I  performed  the  operation  at  that  old  and  respectable  inn, 
the  Swan  with  Two  Necks,  in  Lad-lane,  near  Cheapside.  My  late 
brother,  a  member  of  the  College  of  Surgeons,  and  several  country 
practitioners  were  present,  and  the  operation  completely  succeeded. 
The  boy  was  properly  kept  at  the  inn  till  he  could  distinguish  objects 
and  their  relative  distances.  He  returned  in  due  time  into  the  country, 
and  the  last  intelligence  I  heard  of  him  was  from  one  of  the  proprie- 
tors of  the  inn,  whom  I  accidentally  met,  and  who  informed  me  that 
my  patient  had  obtained  the  complete  use  of  sight  in  the  eye  operated 
upon,  and  that  he  was  to  have  been  brought  to  town  that  I  might 
perform  the  operation  on  his  other  eye,  but  had  died  just  before  he 
was  to  have  commenced  his  journey. 


DEATH  OF  THE  CHEVALIER  TAYLOR. 


25 


I  was  first  appointed  oculist  in  ordinary  to  his  late  majesty,  when 
prince  of  Wales,  in  the  year  1789,  and  in  the  following  year  to  his 
royal  father,  George  the  Third.  On  the  death  of  that  revered 
monarch,  I  was  honoured  with  the  same  appointment  under  his  suc- 
cessor, George  the  Fourth.  On  my  first  appointment  by  his  late 
majesty,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  being  known  to  be  near-sighted,  some 
wag  wrote  the  following  lines  in  a  ministerial  paper.  The  poetical 
satirist  was,  however,  mistaken  in  supposing  that  there  is  a  salary  an- 
nexed to  the  office,  though,  indeed,  I  have  heard  that  my  grandfather, 
in  the  height  of  his  fame  and  prosperity,  had  declined  to  receive  the 
same  salary  allotted  to  the  Poet  Laureate.  The  following  are  the 
]ines : — 

'  IMPROMPTU, 

On  the  appointment  of  John  Taylor,  Esq.  to  he  Oculist  to  his  Royal  Highness  the  Prince 

of  Wales. 

Oh  !  Prince,  since  thou  an  oculist 

Hast  ta'eninto  thy  pay, 
'Tis  hoped  he'll  chase  dull  party's  mist, 

And  spread  truth's  radiant  day. 

But  if,  whate'er  may  be  his  skill, 

That  mist  we  still  shall  find, 
The  homely  adage  to  fulfil, 
The  blind*  will  lead  the  blind. 

About  this  time  I  began  to  turn  my  attention  towards  literary  pur- 
suits, and  particularly  towards  the  public  press,  considering  it  a  shorter 
and  more  probable  path,  than  my  profession  afforded,  to  that  inde- 
pendence which,  from  a  very  early  period  of  my  life,  I  was  always 
anxious  to  attain. 

I  shall  take  a  little  more  notice  of  my  family,  a  subject  of  no  in- 
terest to  the  public  at  large,  but  rather  an  obtrusion  on  its  patience, 
though  dear  to  myself,  and  then  direct  my  attention  to  what  I  hope 
will  be  found  of  more  "  mark  and  likelihood."  My  good  mother 
was  allowed  to  have  been  very  handsome  in  her  early  days,  and  so? 
indeed,  she  remained  to  a  great  degree  within  my  recollection,  al- 
lowing for  the  progress  of  time  and  the  number  of  her  children. 
The  respect,  affection,  and  gratitude  due  to  her  memory  induce  me 
to  add  that  she  possessed  an  excellent  understanding,  was  fond  of 
literature,  conversant  with  history,  an  affectionate  wife  and  mother,  a 
sprightly,  intelligent,  and  good-humoured  companion,  and  always 
maintained  a  most  exemplary  character. 

.  After  many  years  absence  from  this  country,  my  grandfather's 
death  was  noticed  in  the  following  manner  in  a  continental  paper  : — 
"  Having  given  sight  to  many  thousands,  the  celebrated  Chevalier 
Taylor  lately  died  blind,  at  a  very  advanced  age,  in  a  convent  at 
Prague. " 

William  Oldys,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  whose  profound  know- 
ledge of  English  literature  has  raised  his  name  into  high  estimation 

*  Mr.  Taylor  is  said  to  be  near-sighted, 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


with  literary  antiquaries,  and  whose  manuscripts  are  the  subjects  of 
frequent  reference,  was  the  intimate  friend  of  my  father,  but  as  I  was 
then  an  infant,  what  I  know  of  him  was  derived  from  the  accounts  of 
my  parents.  All  that  I  could  recollect  from  this  source  of  informa- 
tion, I  communicated  to  my  friend  Mr.  D'Israeli,  who  has  inserted  it  in 
the  second  series  of  his  very  amusing  work  intituled  "  The  Curiosi- 
ties of  Literature."  Mr.  Oldys  was,  I  understood,  the  natural  son  of 
a  gentleman  named  Harris,  who  lived  in  a  respectable  style  in  Ken- 
sington Square.  How  he  came  to  adopt  the  name  of  Oldys,  or 
where  he  received  his  education,  I  never  heard.  My  father,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  Latin  and  French  languages,  informed 
me  that  Mr.  Oldys  was  a  sound  scholar,  though  he  chiefly  devoted 
himself  to  English  literature.  Mr.  Oldys  was  of  a  very  reserved 
character,  and  when  he  passed  his  evenings  at  my  father's  house  in 
Hatton  Garden,  he  always  preferred  the  fireside  in  the  kitchen,  that 
he  might  not  be  obliged  to  mingle  with  other  visiters.  He  was  so 
particular  in  his  habits,  that  he  could  not  smoke  his  pipe  with  ease, 
till  his  chair  was  fixed  close  to  a  particular  crack  in  the  floor.  He 
had  suffered  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  before  my  father  knew  him, 
but  was  then  easy  in  his  circumstances,  having  been  appointed  Nor- 
roy  dring-at-arms.  I  shall  borrow  from  Mr.  D'Israeli's  work  the 
account  of  this  appointment  as  I  related  it  to  him,  and  as  that  gen- 
tleman has  inserted  it  in  the  third  volume  of  his  new  series. 

"  Oldys,  as  my  father  informed  me,  lived  many  years  in  quiet  ob- 
scurity in  the  Fleet  prison,  but  at  last  was  1  spirited  up'  to  make  his 
situation  known  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  of  that  time,  who  received 
Oldys's  letter  while  he  was  at  dinner  with  some  friends.  The  duke 
immediately  communicated  the  contents  to  the  company,  observing 
that  he  had  long  been  anxious  to  know  what  had  become  of  an  old, 
though  an  humble  friend,  and  was  happy,  by  that  letter,  to  find  that 
he  was  still  alive.  He  then  called  for  his  gentleman  (a  kind  of  humble 
friend  whom  noblemen  used  to  retain  under  that  name  in  former 
days),  and  desired  him  to  go  immediately  to  the  Fleet  prison  with 
money  for  the  immediate  need  of  Oldys,  to  procure  an  account  of 
his  debts,  and  to  discharge  them.  Oldys  was  soon  after,  either  by  the 
duke's  gift  or  interest,  appointed  Norroy  king-at-arms ;  and  I  re- 
member that  his  official  regalia  came  into  my  father's  hands  at  his 
death."  Mr.  Oldys  had  been  one  of  the  librarians  to  the  celebrated 
Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  and  in  that  capacity  had  become  known  to 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  My  father  was  appointed  executor  to  Mr. 
Oldys,  who  had  stood  godfather  to  one  of  his  sons. 

Soon  after  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  had  removed  all  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties from  Mr.  Oldys,  he  procured  for  him,  as  I  have  said,  the  situa- 
tion of  Norroy  king-at-arms,  a  situation  peculiarly  suited  to  his  turn 
for  antiquities.  On  some  occasion,  when  the  king-at-arms  was 
obliged  to  ride  on  horseback  in  a  public  procession,  the  predecessor 
of  Mr.  Oldys  in  the  cavalcade  had  a  proclamation  to  read,  but,  con- 
fused by  the  noise  of  the  surrounding  multitude,  he  made  many  mis* 
takes,  and,  anxious  to  be  accurate,  he  turned  back  to  every  passage  to 


WILLIAM  OLDYS,  ESQ. 


correct  himself,  and  therefore  appeared  to  the  people  to  be  an  igno- 
rant blunderer.  When  Mr.  Oldys  had  to  recite  the  same  proclama- 
tion, though  he  made,  he  said,  more  mistakes  than  his  predecessor,  he 
read  on  through  thick  and  thin,  never  stopping  a  moment  to  correct 
his  errors,  and  thereby  excited  the  applause  of  the  people,  though  he 
declared  that  the  other  gentleman  had  been  much  better  qualified  for 
the  duty  than  himself. 

The  shyness  of  Mr.  Oldys's  disposition,  and  the  simplicity  of  his 
manners,  had  induced  him  to  decline  an  introduction  to  my  grand- 
father, the  Chevalier  Taylor,  who  was  always  splendid  in  attire,  and 
had  been  used  to  the  chief  societies  in  every  court  of  Europe ;  but 
my  grandfather  had  heard  so  much  of  Mr.  Oldys,  that  he  resolved  to 
be  acquainted  with  him,  and  therefore  one  evening  when  Oldys  was 
enjoying  his  philosophical  pipe  by  the  kitchen-fire,  the  chevalier 
invaded  his  retreat,  and  without  ceremony  addressed  him  in  the  Latin 
language.  Oldys,  surprised  and  gratified  to  find  a  scholar  in  a  fine 
gentleman,  threw  off  his  reserve,  answered  him  in  the  same  language, 
and  the  colloquy  continued  for  at  least  two  hours,  Oldys  suspending 
his  pipe  all  the  time,  my  father,  not  so  good  a  scholar,  only  occasion- 
ally interposing  an  illustrative  remark.  This  anecdote,  upon  which 
the  reader  may  implicitly  depend,  is  a  full  refutation  of  the  insolent 
abuse  of  my  grandfather  by  Dr.  Johnson,  as  recorded  in  the  life  of 
that  literary  hippopotamus  by  Mr.  Boswell.  The  truth  is,  that  among 
the  faults  and  virtues  of  that  great  moralist,  he  could  not  eradicate 
envy  from  his  mind,  as  he  indeed  has  confessed  in  his  works ;  and  in 
respect  to  colloquial  latinity,  he  who  was  a  sloven  was  no  doubt  mor- 
tified to  be  excelled  by  a  beau,  and  this  is  probably  the  true  cause  of 
his  illiberal  and  unjust  description  of  my  grandfather. 

On  the  death  of  Oldys,  my  father,  who  was  his  executor,  became 
possessed  of  what  property  he  left,  which  was  very  small,  including 
his  regalia  as  king-at-arms.  Mr.  Oldys  had  engaged  to  furnish  a 
bookseller  in  the  Strand,  whose  name  was  Walker,  with  ten  years  of 
the  life  of  Shakspeare,  unknown  to  the  biographers  and  commentators, 
but  he  died,  and  "  made  no  sign"  of  the  projected  work.  The  book- 
seller made  a  demand  of  twenty  guineas  on  my  father,  alleging  that 
he  had  advanced  that  sum  to  Mr.  Oldys,  who  had  promised  to  provide 
the  matter  in  question.  My  father  paid  this  sum  to  the  bookseller 
soon  after  he  had  attended  the  remains  of  his  departed  friend  to  the 
grave.  The  manuscripts  of  Oldys,  consisting  of  a  few  books  written 
in  a  small  hand,  and  abundantly  interlined,  remained  long  in  my 
father's  possession,  but  by  desire  of  Dr.  Percy,  afterward  Bishop  of 
Dromore,  were  submitted  to  his  inspection,  through  the  medium  of 
Dr.  Monsey,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Dr.  Percy.  They  con- 
tinued in  Dr.  Percy's  hands  some  years.  He  had  known  Mr.  Oldys 
in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  and  spoke  respectfully  of  his  character. 
The  last  volume  of  Oldys's  manuscripts  that  I  ever  saw,  was  at  my 
friend  the  late  Mr.  William  Gifford's  house,  in  James-street,  West- 
minster, while  he  was  preparing  a  new  edition  of  the  works  of  Shir- 
ley ;  and  I  learned  from  him  that  it  was  lent  to  him  by  Mr.  Heber. 


28 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Oldys  told  my  father  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  little  son* 
which  was  once  admired,  and  which  Mr.  Disraeli  has  introduced  in 
his  new  series,  relying  upon  the  known  veracity  of  Oldys  from  other 
sources  besides  the  testimony  of  my  parents.  There  is  no  great 
merit  in  the  composition,  but  as  it  shows  the  benevolent  and  philo- 
sophic temper  of  the  author,  I  shall  submit  it  to  the  reader  as  an  old 
family  relick. 

Susy,  curious,  thirsty  fly, 
Drink  with  me,  and  drink  as  I ! 
Freely  welcome  to  my  cup, 
Couldst  thou  sip  and  sip  it  up  : 
Make  the  most  of  life  you  may  ; 
Life  is  short  and  wears  away. 

Both  alike  are  mine  and  thine, 
Hastening  quick  to  their  decline  ! 
Thine's  a  summer,  mine  no  more, 
Though  repeated  to  threescore  I 
Threescore  summers  when  they're  gone,  1 
Will  appear  as  short  as  one  1  ^ 

Tilburina  says,  "  an  oyster  may  be  crossed  in  love,"  and  so,  per- 
haps, may  a  cold  literary  antiquary.  Mr.  Oldys  frequently  indulged 
his  spleen  in  sarcasms  against  female  inconstancy,  and  often  concluded 
his  remarks  with  the  following  couplet,  but  I  know  not  whether  it  was 
composed  by  himself. 

If  women  were  little  as  they  are  good, 

A  peascod  would  make  them  a  gown  and  a  hood. 

My  friend  Mr.  D'Israeli  is  mistaken  in  saying  that,  "on  the  deatl* 
of  Oldys,  Dr.  Kippis,  editor  of  the  Biographia  Britannica,  looked  over 
the  manuscripts."  It  was  not  till  near  thirty  years  after  the  death  of 
Oldys  that  they  were  submitted  to  his  inspection,  and  at  his  recom- 
mendation were  purchased  by  the  late  Mr.  Cadell.  The  funeral  ex- 
penses had  been  paid  by  my  father  immediately  after  the  interment 
of  Oldys,  and  not,  as  Mr.  D'Israeli  says,  by  the  "  twenty  guineas,, 
which,  perhaps,  served  to  bury  the  writer." 

My  friend  Mr.  Alexander  Chalmers,  to  whom  the  literary  world  is 
indebted  for  many  valuable  works,  chiefly  biographical,  has,  I  find7 
written  a  life  of  Mr.  Oldys,  which  I  have  not  seen,  and  I  doubt  not 
that  it  is  marked  by  his  usual  candour,  research,  and  fidelity.  I  must 
not,  however  mention  Mr.  Chalmers  merely  as  a  biographer,  great 
as  his  merits  are  in  that  character,  as  he  is  the  author  of  innumerable 
fugitive  pieces,  remarkable  for  fancy,  humour,  wit,  and  satire,  which 
have  been  published  anonymously,  and  have  been  always  justly  ad- 
mired. But  I  ought  particularly  to  mention  a  work,  in  three  octavo 
volumes,  entitled  "  The  Projector,"  which  appeared  in  successive 
numbers  through  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  one  of  the  oldest,  indeed 
the  oldest,  and  indisputably  the  most  valuable  of  our  periodical  pro- 
ductions of  a  similar  description,  and  which  since  its  origin,  a  hundred 
years  ago,  has  always  maintained  an  undiminished  reputation.  Mr» 


*  JEMMY  BROOKE." 


2D 


Chalmers  himself  collected  these  numbers  into  three  volumes,  and, 
in  point  of  ironical  humour  and  sound  moral  tendency,  they  deserve 
a  place  in  every  library. 

Mr.  DTsraeli  mentions  a  caricature  of  the  person  of  Mr.  Oldys, 
drawn  by  the  well-known  Major  Grose,  with  whom  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  acquainted,  and  who  mentioned  Mr.  Oldys  to  me  with  great 
respect.  The  major  was  a  man  of  great  humour  and  learning.  I 
shall,  perhaps,  have  occasion  to  mention  him  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

One  of  my  father's  intimate  and  early  friends  was  Mr.  James 
Brooke,  who  lived  till  I  was  far  advanced  in  life.  He  had  been  ap- 
prenticed to  an  engraver,  and  practised  the  business  some  years,  but 
having  had  a  good  education,  and  possessing  literary  talents,  he  de- 
voted himself  wholly  to  the  profession  of  an  author.  His  literary 
talents  and  political  knowledge  were  so  well  known,  that  he  was  en- 
gaged to  conduct  "  The  North  Briton,"  on  the  relinquishment  of  that 
work  by  Mr.  Wilkes.  He  wrote  several  prologues  and  epilogues  in 
the  early  part  of  his  life,  and  songs  for  Vauxhall  Gardens.  He  was 
well  known  to  all  the  wits  of  his  time. 

Mr.  Brooke  was  a  distinguished  member  of  convivial  parties,  and, 
as  a  proof  of  the  easy  familiarity  of  his  character,  he  was  generally 
styled  "  Jemmy  Brooke."  He  was  particularly  intimate  with  Ross  the 
actor,  Macklin,  Hugh  Kelly,  and  Goldsmith,  as  well  as  with  Richard- 
son, the  author  of  Clarissa,  who  stood  godfather  to  his  second  daughter^ 
christened  by  the  name  of  that  celebrated  novel. 

There  is  in  many  families  some  overbearing  friend,  who  takes  great 
liberties  and  assumes  much  authority ;  such  was  Mr.  Brooke  in  ours. 
He  exercised  a  control  over  the  children ;  but  though  it  was  irksome 
to  us  at  the  time,  it  was  eventually  a  great  advantage  in  forming  our 
manners  and  directing  our  pursuits.  He  had  married  a  very  beautiful 
young  woman,  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  tradesman  in  the  city, 
by  whom  he  had  three  children,  a  son,  who  was  my  school-fellow  at 
Ponder's  End,  Enfield,  and  two  daughters.  The  daughters  lived 
many  years  in  our  family.  The  elder  is  still  alive,  a  venerable  spin- 
ster. The  younger  was  the  third  wife  of  the  late  Philip  Champion 
Crespigny,  Esq.  king's  proctor,  and  member  of  parliament  for  Sud- 
bury. Knowing  the  early  and  almost  infantine  connexion  between 
me  and  his  wife,  Mr.  Crespigny  obligingly  offered  to  admit  me  into 
his  office,  as  an  indentured  clerk,  without  a  premium,  though  I  believe 
that  a  thousand  pounds  is  the  sum  usually  required  on  such  occasions, 
and  was  probably  higher  in  the  office  of  king's  proctor.  My  father, 
however,  requiring  my  assistance  in  his  profession  as  oculist,  having 
a  large  family,  and  conceiving  that  he  should  find  great  difficulty  in 


30 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


supporting  me  during  the  period  of  my  clerkship,  deemed  it  expedient 
to  decline  the  generous  offer.  I  have  often  thought  with  regret  of 
having  lost  so  favourable  an  opportunity,  which,  as  Shakspeare  says, 
was  my  u  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men." 

A  whimsical  circumstance  took  place  in  Mr.  Brooke's  youth. 
During  the  time  of  Bartholomew  fair,  young  Brooke  was  absent 
from  his  father's  house  for  two  days,  but  as  he  was  a  very  intelligent, 
as  well  as  lively  young  man,  in  whose  understanding  his  father  placed 
great  confidence,  the  family  were  not  under  any  alarm.  His  father, 
during  his  absence,  to  show  a  country  friend  the  humours  of  London, 
happened  to  enter  one  of  the  booths  in  Smithfield  in  the  height  of  the 
fair,  and  the  first  object  that  attracted  his  attention  was  his  own  son 
on  the  stage,  actively  employed  in  what  at  that  time  was  styled  the 
"Jockey  Dance,"  with  a  sportsman's  cap  and  whip.  It  may  be 
proper  to  observe,  that  Bartholomew  fair  was  then  of  a  more  re- 
spectable description  than  it  is  at  present.  Yates,  an  admirable  comic 
performer,  and  Shuter,  who  Garrick  said  was  the  best  comic  actor 
that  he  had  ever  seen,  had  each  a  booth  at  this  fair ;  and  my  father 
assured  me  that  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Pritchard,  who  has  been  described 
as  one  of  the  very  best  actresses  that  ever  adorned  the  British  stage, 
perform  at  the  fair. 

The  talents  of  Mrs.  Pritchard  were  confined  neither  to  tragedy 
nor  comedy ;  she  was  equally  excellent  in  both.  Even  the  cynical 
Churchill  bestows  a  high  panegyric  on  her  theatrical  powers,  and  it 
it  was  acknowledged  at  the  time  that  her  Lady  Macbeth  was  not 
more  terrific  than  her  Doll  Common  was  humorous ;  but  she  was 
equally  successful  in  representing  characters  of  the  upper  and  middle 
ranks  of  life.  The  amiable  and  elegant  Mr.  William  Whitehead, 
poet  laureate  of  that  time,  testified  his  respect  and  esteem  for  this 
great  actress,  by  writing  her  epitaph,  which  appears  on  a  tablet  in 
the  Poets'  Corner  of  Westminster  Abbey ;  yet  Dr.  Johnson  has  de- 
graded her  memory  by  representing  her  as  an  ignorant  woman,  who 
talked  of  her  "gownd."  Surely  so  accomplished  a  scholar,  and  so 
intelligent  a  man  as  Mr.  Whitehead  was  able  to  appreciate  her  char- 
acter, and  he  would  hardly  have  annexed  his  name  to  the  epitaph, 
had  she  been  so  ignorant  as  she  is  described  by  Dr.  Johnson. 

Mr.  Brooke  was  a  man  of  a  very  irritable  temper,  and  frequently 
gave  way  to  the  most  violent  impulses  of  sudden  anger.  His  wife,  a 
lovely  and  amiable  woman,  had  for  many  years  borne  with  patience 
the  impetuosity  of  his  nature,  but  at  length  her  fortitude  was  exhausted, 
and  she  left  him.  Having  no  other  resource,  she  adopted  the  theatri- 
cal profession,  and  was  soon  engaged  at  the  Edinburgh  theatre,  where, 
in  comic  characters,  particularly  old  ladies,  she  appeared  to  great 
advantage  ;  and  many  years  afterward  was  engaged  on  the  Norwich 
stage.  Immediately  after  the  retreat  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Brooke,  who 
possessed  literary  talents  of  no  ordinary  description,  wrote  an  adver- 
tisement, which  was  inserted  in  the  newspapers  of  that  time,  address- 
ing his  wife  in  the  most  pathetic  manner,  imploring  her  to  return ; 
appealing  to  her  feelings  as  a  mother,  and  representing  the  forlorn 


MRS.  BROOKE. 


31 


and  helpless  state  of  her  three  children,  deprived  of  maternal  solicitude 
and  affection.  Mrs.  Brooke,  however,  having  long  and  thoroughly 
tried  his  temper,  considered  it  utterly  incurable,  and  never  renewed 
the  intercourse.  This  advertisement  was  shown  to  me  many  years 
ago  by  the  late  Rev.  Mr.  Harpur,  of  the  British  Museum,  who  had 
extracted  it  from  an  old  newspaper,  and  I  remember  it  struck  me  as 
one  of  the  most  affecting  compositions  I  had  ever  read. 

In  the  early  part  of  my  life,  Mrs.  Brooke  came  to  London,  and 
called  on  my  mother,  who  had  been  a  most  affectionate  friend,  and, 
in  effect,  a  mother  to  her  daughters.  I  then  saw  her  for  a  few  minutes 
only,  as  1  was  obliged  to  leave  home  on  some  concern  for  my  father, 
but  remember  that  I  wras  struck  with  the  beauty  of  her  countenance 
and  the  dignity  of  her  figure.  After  sustaining  an  eminent  station  at 
the  Norwich  theatre  during  many  years,  she  was  afflicted  with  a 
cancer,  which  wholly  unfitted  her  for  the  stage,  and  she  was  advised 
to  come  to  London,  and  throw  herself  on  the  protection  of  her  son- 
in-law,  Mr.  Crespigny,  who  was  liberally  disposed  to  afford  her  a 
suitable  provision,  and  offered  to  give  her  an  adequate  sum  of  money, 
or  settle  an  annuity  upon  her.  She  was  advised  to  accept  the  first 
proposal,  as  it  was  observed  that,  if  she  exhausted  the  money  before 
her  death,  it  was  probable  she  would  then  obtain  the  annuity.  Which 
part  of  the  alternative  she  accepted,  I  never  heard,  and  never  thought 
proper  to  inquire. 

On  her  arrival  in  London  I  was  introduced  to  her  by  her  daughters, 
who  thought  that  as  she  had  few  acquaintances  in  London,  I  might 
occasionally  visit  her  as  an  acceptable  companion.  In  the  whole 
course  of  my  acquaintance  with  the  female  world,  I  never  knew  a 
more  amiable  and  intelligent  woman.  Her  face  exhibited  the 
interesting  remains  of  great  beauty,  with  the  most  benignant  expres- 
sion of  countenance.  There  is  a  portrait  of  her  painted  by  Worlidge, 
an  artist  of  high  reputation  in  his  day,  which  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  her  elder  daughter.  I  have  a  mezzotinto  print  from  this  portrait. 
Mr.  Boswell,  in  his  account  of  his  tour  through  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  says  that,  in  a  public-house,  he  saw  a  similar  print,  and  one 
of  the  celebrated  Archibald  Bower,  who  wrote  the  Lives  of  the 
Popes,  and  was  proved  to  be  an  impostor  in  his  account  of  his  imprison- 
ment in  the  Inquisition.  Mrs.  Brooke,  after  bearing  with  fortitude  and 
resignation,  severe  sufferings  under  her  disorder,  died  in  the  year  1782, 
and  was  buried  in  the  old  church-yard  at  Marylebone.  I  attended 
lier  funeral,  as  I  did,  many  years  after,  that  of  her  husband,  both,  as 
I  understood,  having  expressed  a  desire  that  I  should  show  this  mark 
of  respect  to  their  remains.  I  never  knew  them  together,  and  they 
never  met  after  Mrs.  Brooke's  retreat  from  her  husband. 

I  must  indulge  myself,  or,  perhaps,  rather  my  vanity,  in  the  inser- 
tion of  a  short  proof  of  her  friendship,  if  not  of  her  poetical  powers. 
Sitting  one  evening  with  her,  for  indeed  I  never  suffered  a  day  to 
pass  without  seeing  her,  I  took  up  the  pen,  and  wrote  a  few  lines 
extempore,  intimating  that  it  was  odd,  having  scribbled  so  many 
verses  upon  indifferent  subjects,  that  I  had  never  written  any  upon 


32 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


her,  who  was  so  high  in  my  esteem  and  friendship.  She  took  the 
pen  from  me,  and  immediately  produced  the  following  answer. 

You  say  it  is  odd,  my  heart's  dearest  friend, 

That  in  verse  you  had  never  the  thought  to  commend 

Those  virtues  your  kind  partiality  gives 

To  one  who,  in  truth,  is  as  simple  as  lives — 

All  the  merit  she  claims  is  a  friendship  that's  true, 

And  her  pride  and  her  boast  is  her  friendship  with  you. ' 

As  I  was  often  profuse  in  expressing  my  high  opinion  of  this  lady, 
whenever  I  wras  with  her,  she  more  than  once  desired  that  I  would 
read  a  poem,  entitled  "  The  Squire  of  Dames,"  written  by  a  Mr. 
Mendez,  a  rich  gentleman  of  the  Jewish  persuasion.  It  is  in  Dods- 
ley's  collection  of  poems.  Mr.  Mendez  was  the  author  of  "  The 
Chaplet,''  a  musical  afterpiece,  which  was  very  popular  in  its  day. 
He  also  published  a  volume  of  poems,  partly  selected,  and  partly  his 
own  production.  In  this  volume  were  included  some  stanzas  to  the 
celebrated  Mrs.  AVoffington,  beginning — 

Once  more  I'll  tune  the  vocal  shell ; 

which  were  generally  attributed  to  Garrick,  on  account  of  his  known 
partiality  to  that  actress,  but  were  really  written  by  Sir  Charles 
Hanbury  Williams,  one  of  the  most  vigorous  satirical  poets  of  his 
time.  They  appear  in  the  three  volumes  of  his  works  published  by 
Lord  Holland,  but  are  more  creditable  to  his  lordship's  love%of 
genius  and  his  sense  of  humour,  than  to  his  regard  for  delicacy,  as 
there  are  many  passages  in  these  volumes  that  ought  never  to  have 
seen  the  light,  however  pointed,  ingenious,  and  facetious.* 

Upon  my  asking  Mrs.  Brooke  why  she  had  so  particularly  desired 
me  to  read  "  The  Squire  of  Dames,"  she  declined  telling  me  the  rea- 
son, and  said  she  left  it  to  my  own  discernment.  After  having  read 
the  poem,  and  reflected  on  its  drift,  finding  that  the  heroine,  though 
deemed  exemplary  for  virtue,  appeared  to  have  all  the  frailty  which 
satirists  impute  to  the  female  sex,  I  concluded  that  she  intended  to 
induce  me  to  infer  that  I  thought  too  favourably  of  her,  and  to  inti- 
mate that  she  partook  of  all  human  errors,  particularly  those  of  her 
own  sex.f 

*  Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Williams  was  our  minister  at  the  court  of  Prussia.  Close 
to  his  residence  in  Berlin  was  a  house  of  bad  fame,  which,  soon  after  his  arrival,  was 
prohibited,  in  compliment  to  his  representative  character.  Sir  Charles  deemed  it 
necessary  to  apply  to  the  Prussian  government,  requesting  the  restoration  of  the 
house  in  question,  alleging  that,  while  the  house  existed  in  its  former  state,  he  knew 
where  to  find  his  servants,  but  when  it  was  abolished,  they  were  so  dispersed 
through  the  city,  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  discover  them.  The  house  was  then 
restored  to  its  former  privilege,  and  the  servants  to  a  place  where  they  were  sure  to 
he  found. 

t  Whatever  might  have  been  the  errors  of  this  amiable  woman,  the  goodness  of 
her  heart,  the  benevolence  of  her  disposition,  and  the  rectitude  of  her  principles,  at 
least  during  the  latter  period  of  her  life,  may  be  properly  received  as  an  expiatory 
atonement  for  any  thing  that  might  have  happened  subsequent  to  her  separation 
from  her  husband,  who,  if  of  a  different  temper,  might  have  rendered  her  the  delight 
of  his  life,  and  the  ornament  of  society. 


MR.  PRATT. 


33 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Pratt. — At  the  apartments  of  Mrs.  Brooke,  I  first  became 
acquainted  with  this  gentleman,  who  had  been  many  years  known  to 
the  public,  and  whose  productions,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Cour- 
teney  Melmoth,  were  deservedly  popular  and  productive.  Mr.  Pratt 
supposed,  when  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Brooke,  soliciting  the  pleasure  of 
waiting  on  her,  that  he  had  addressed  Mrs.  Brooke,  the  fair  author  of 
u  Julia  Mandeville,"  "  Emily  Montague,"  and  the  musical  afterpiece 
of  "  Rosina :"  the  music  of  which  was  chiefly  composed  by  my  late 
friend  Mr.  Shield.  On  the  first  interview,  at  which  I  was  present, 
he  was  informed  of  his  mistake,  but  the  good  sense  and  pleasing 
manners  of  Mrs.  Brooke  induced  him  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance, 
and  I  passed  many  instructive  and  pleasing  hours  in  his  company,  till 
at  length  we  became  intimately  connected.  I  afterward  met  him 
ifrequently  at  the  house  of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Robinson,  whom  I 
shall  mention  in  the  course  of  these  records.  Though  his  works  in 
general  are  of  a  sentimental  and  pathetic  description,  yet  in  company 
he  displayed  great  humour,  and  abounded  in  ludicrous  anecdotes.  I 
introduced  him  to  Dr.  Wolcot,  whose  original  and  peculiar  genius  he 
highly  admired.  They  became  intimate,  and  the  collision  of  their 
powers  furnished  a  very  pleasant  intellectual  repast.  Mr.  Pratt  was 
not  born  to  fortune,  and  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  make  his  way  in 
the  world  by  his  literary  talents.  Whether  he  was  a  classical 
scholar  I  know  not,  but  from  his  intimacy  with  Mr.  Potter,  the  trans- 
lator of  the  "  Grecian  Drama,"  and  with  the  present  Dr.  Mavor,  in 
conjunction  with  whom  he  published  some  works,  as  well  as  with 
Mr.  Gibbon  the  historian,  it  may  be  inferred  that  he  had  a  competent 
knowledge  of  classical  literature.  It  is  certain  that  he  possessed  no 
ordinary  talents  as  a  poet,  and  as  a  novel-writer,  of  which  there  are 
abundant  proofs  in  his  various  and  numerous  productions.  His  first 
dramatic  piece  was  a  tragedy,  entitled  M  The  Fair  Circassian,"  the 
title  of  a  poem  written  by  Dr.  Croxall,  which  was  much  admired. 
The  plot  of  this  tragedy  is  not,  however,  founded  upon  the  poem,  but 
on  Dr.  Hawkesworth's  interesting  romance  of  "  Almoran  and  Hamet." 
Dr.  Hawkesworth  was  another  of  Pratt's  intimate  friends.  Mrs. 
Barry  was  to  have  been  the  heroine  of  the  play,  but  one  of  those 
caprices  to  which  great  theatrical  performers  are  peculiarly  subject, 
occurred,  and  it  was  assigned  to  Miss  Farren,  the  late  Countess  of 
Derby.  It  was,  I  believe,  her  first  appearance  on  Drury-lane, 
boards,  at  least  in  a  tragic  character ;  but  her  natural  good  temper 
and  her  friendship  for  the  author,  induced  her  to  undertake  the  part 
without  hesitation.  The  play,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  wTas  represented 
nine  nights,  and  therefore  produced  a  tolerable  requital  to  the  author. 

My  old  friend  Mr.  James  Sayers,  well  known  for  his  literary 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


talents  as  a  caricaturist,  made  a  ludicrous  drawing  of  Miss  Farren  in 
the  heroine,  and  published  a  print  of  it  etched  by  himself.  He  also 
made  a  drawing  of  Mrs.  Abington,  in  the  character  of  Scrub,  which 
she  degraded  herself  by  performing  on  one  of  her  benefit  nights.  Mr. 
Sayers  was  so  well  known  and  so  much  admired  for  his  knowledge 
and  talents,  that  I  must  pay  a  short  tribute  to  his  memory.  He  was 
an  attorney,  and  in  partnership  with  another  in  Gray's-inn,  but  his 
partner  was  so  fond  of  angling  that  he  neglected  all  business  to  in- 
dulge himself  in  his  favourite  diversion,  and  Mr.  Sayers  deemed  it 
proper  to  dissolve  the  connexion.  Mr.  Sayers  was  remarkable  for  a 
saturnine  humour,  and  for  his  fertility  and  promptitude  in  sarcastic 
verses,  as  well  for  his  skill  in  caricature  drawings,  which  he  engraved 
himself,  and  they  constitute  a  very  large  collection.  Many  of  them 
he  presented  to  me,  but  I  believe  very  few  persons  possess  the  whole 
collection.  He  was  a  very  shrewd  man,  a  warm  politician,  and  a 
zealous  Pittite.  His  most  popular  print  was  published  at  the  time 
when  Mr.  Fox  brought  forward  his  memorable  East  India  Bill,  after 
his  coalition  with  Lord  North,  which  destroyed  the  reputation  of  both 
for  political  integrity.  This  print,  which  displayed  great  ingenuity 
and  humour,  represented  Mr.  Fox  as  Carlo  Khan  astride  an  elephant, 
the  face  of  which  had  the  features  of  Lord  North,  riding  in  Leaden- 
hall-street  near  the  East  India  House.  Mr.  Sayers  published  many 
other  prints  on  political  subjects,  and  all  in  favour  of  the  Pitt  adminis- 
tration. He  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Boydells,  and  selected 
many  of  the  subjects  for  the  artists  when  those  enterprising  patrons 
of  painting,  in  conjunction  with  my  late  worthy  friend  Mr.  George 
Nicol,  the  bookseller  to  his  majesty,  instituted  the  Shakspeare  Gallery 
in  Pall  Mall. 

On  the  death  of  Mr.  Pitt,  Mr.  Sayers  published  a  poem  intituled 
"  Elijah's  Mantle,"  which  was  very  popular  at  the  time,  and  has  since 
been  erroneously  attributed  to  Mr.  Canning.  The  fertile  imagination 
of  Mr.  Sayers,  and  his  sarcastic  humour,  remained  unexhausted  till 
his  death.  One  of  his  last  publications  was  an  heroic  epistle  to  Mr. 
Winsor,  the  celebrated  founder  of  the  Gas  Company,  but  who,  for 
reasons  which  have  not  been  satisfactorily  explained,  was  precluded 
from  the  profits  of  his  science  and  ingenuity.  This  poem  abounded 
in  wit,  humour,  and  satire,  and  might  fairly  be  compared  with  the 
memorable  heroic  epistle  to  Sir  William  Chambers,  the  author  of 
which,  like  Junius,  has  never  been  discovered,  but  is  now  generally 
supposed  to  have  been  Mr.  Mason,  though  so  essentially  different 
from  all  that  gentleman's  acknowledged  productions,  as  to  render  the 
question  doubtful  with  all  critics  of  real  judgment,  taste,  and  acuteness. 

I  knew  Mr.  Sayers  in  early  life,  and  nothing  interrupted  our 
friendship.  The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  was  at  a 
dinner  in  Staple-inn  Hall.  He  was  a  member  of  the  society  of  that 
inn  of  court,  and  I  had  often  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  him  at  the 
same  social  board.  He  was  usually  very  reserved  at  table  ;  and  the 
rest  of  the  members,  who  highly  respected  his  character  and  enjoyed 
his  conversation,  left  him  to  retain  his  own  humour.   As  I  knew  his 


MR.  PRATT. 


35 


powers,  and  wished  to  draw  him  forth,  I  always  ventured  to  attack 
him  with  sportive  hostility,  in  order  to  provoke  him  into  action  ;  and  I 
generally  succeeded.  I  well  knew  that  I  was  likely  to  suffer  under 
so  powerful  an  opponent,  but  I  induced  him  to  come  forward  with 
sallies  highly  gratifying  to  the  company,  and  not  less  so  to  myself,  for, 
if  I  suffered,  I  profited  by  the  display  of  his  intellectual  energy  and 
satirical  humour. 

He  never  could  resist  the  opportunity  of  indulging  his  turn  for  ridi- 
cule. I  remember  meeting  him  one  morning  at  the  house  of  our 
mutual  friend  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  just  after  the  late  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence,  one  of  my  oldest  and  most  esteemed  friends,  had 
exhibited  his  fine  whole-length  portrait  of  that  great  actor,  in  the 
character  of  Hamlet  philosophizing  on  the  scull  of  Yorick.  Mr. 
Sayers  had  made  a  drawing  in  ridicule  of  that  picture.  The  draw- 
ing displayed  much  point  and  humour.  Mr.  Kemble  asked  to  look 
at  it,  and  when  it  came  into  his  hands,  having  a  sincere  friendship  for 
Lawrence,  he  instantly  placed  it  in  his  table-drawer,  and  told  Mr. 
Sayers  that  he  should  never  see  it  again,  as  a  punishment  for  hi3 
attack  on  a  work  of  great  merit.  I  understood,  however,  that  Mr. 
Sayers  really  intended  to  present  the  drawing  to  Mr.  Kemble.  The 
society  of  Staple-inn  suffered  a  great  loss  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Sayers, 
an  event  that  was  to  me  a  subject  of  sincere  regret. 

But  I  must  return  to  Mr.  Pratt.  I  am  convinced  that  his  heart 
was  kind,  benevolent,  and  friendly,  though,  as  he  subsisted  wholly  by 
his  literary  talents,  I  am  afraid  he  was  often  under  pecuniary  embar- 
rassments. He  had  tried  the  stage,  and  performed  the  characters  of 
Philaster  and  Hamlet,  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre  ;  but  though,  no 
doubt,  he  supported  both  with  "  due  emphasis  and  discretion,"  yet  his 
walk  was  a  kind  of  airy  swing  that  rendered  his  acting  at  times 
rather  ludicrous,  as  I  have  heard,  for  his  performance  took  place  long 
before  I  was  acquainted  with  him. 

I  was  sorry,  and  indeed  shocked,  to  see  a  letter  from  Miss  Seward 
in  the  second  volume  of  Mr.  Polwhele's  Memoirs,  in  which  she  gives 
a  very  severe  account  of  the  character  and  conduct  of  Mr.  Pratt, 
after  having  been  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  him  for  many  years. 
When  Mr.  Pratt  first  published  his  poem  entitled  "  Sympathy,"  a 
work  characterized  by  benevolence  and  poetry,  she  wrote  an  elabo- 
rate and  most  favourable  commentary  upon  it,  though  she  afterward 
thought  proper  to  drop  the  connexion,  and  to  revile  its  author  in  the 
grave.  Even  admitting  that  there  might  be  some  foundation  for 
what  she  alleges  against  him,  she  must  have  been  fully  aware  of  it 
before  she  became  his  friendly  commentator.  Miss  Seward,  how- 
ever, was  one  of  the  last  persons  who  should  have  assumed  the  office 
of  a  severe  and  moral  censor,  as  it  is  well  known  that  she  suffered  the 
attentions  of  a  public  singer,  a  married  man,  who  resided  with  his 
family  at  Lichfield,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  receiving  him  almost  daily. 
Admitting  also  that  the  connexion  was  innocent,  and  I  have  no  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  it  was  otherwise,  surely  it  was  acting  in  contempt 
of  public  opinion  to  withdraw  a  man  from  his  duty  to  his  wife  and 
family. 


36 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


It  may  be  said  of  Miss  Seward,  'as  a  writer  of  proae  or  poetry, 
that  she  "  inclination  fondly  took  for  taste."  Her  poems  are  stiff  and 
formal,  and  a  great  part  of  her  literary  reputation  arose  from  the 
encomiums  which  Mr.  Pratt  bestowed  on  her,  and  on  the  kindness 
with  which  he  brought  her  name  forward  to  public  notice.  Her  first 
production  was  a  monody  on  the  unfortunate  Major  Andre,  who  was 
executed  as  a  spy  in  America  during  our  lamentable  contest  with 
our  former  transatlantic  colonies.  It  was  not  recommended  by  any 
original  merit  or  poetical  vigour,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  all  her 
subsequent  productions,  and  her  attempts  at  criticism  are  vain,  weak, 
and  affected.  Mr.  Pratt,  who  had  really  a  sincere  friendship  for 
Miss  Seward,  deeply  regretted  the  cessation  of  their  amicable  inter- 
course, and  earnestly  desired  to  know  how  he  had  offended  her,  but 
never  could  obtain  a  satisfactory  answer.  Little  could  he  conceive 
it  possible  that  in  cold-blooded  enmity  she  would  have  waited  till  his 
death  to  revile  his  memory. 

I  am  convinced  that  if  Pratt  had  been  born  to  a  fortune,  a  great 
part  of  it  would  have  been  devoted  to  benevolence.  He  had  written 
a  copious  account  of  his  own  life  in  two  large  volumes,  of  which  he 
had  made  an  abstract,  and  this  he  gave  me  to  read  at  his  lodgings, 
while  he  was  writing  something  for  the  press  which  waited  for  him. 

In  the  early  part  of  his  life  he  had  been  in  America,  but  in  what 
employment  I  do  not  remember.  I  suppose  he  gave  public  recita- 
tions, as  he  afterward  did  at  Edinburgh,  Bath,  and  Dublin.  He  was 
for  some  time  a  curate  in  Lincolnshire,  but  tired  of  that  occupation, 
he  devoted  himself  entirely  to  the  profession  of  an  author.  He  ex- 
celled in  epistolary  composition.  His  second  dramatic  work  was 
intituled  "  The  School  for  Vanity,"  which  owed  its  failure  chiefly  to 
the  great  number  of  letters  that  passed  between  the  several  characters 
in  the  play  addressed  to  each  other,  insomuch  that  when  the  last 
letter  was  presented,  the  audience  burst  into  a  general  laugh,  and  the 
piece  was  hurried  to  a  conclusion,  and  I  believe  never  brought  for- 
ward again.  In  fact,  he  lived  amid  epistolary  correspondents,  and 
transferred  his  habits  to  the  stage.  This  comedy  he  included  in  the 
four  volumes  of  miscellanies  which  he  afterward  published.  As  he 
wras  once  a  popular  writer,  he  must  have  derived  great  profits  from 
his  numerous  works,  but  was  sometimes  in  difficulties.  Once,  when 
he  had  just  received  twenty  pounds  unexpectedly,  and  had  doubtless 
full  occasion  for  that  sum,  having  observed  that  I  appeared  grave, 
and,  as  he  thought,  melancholy,  in  company  with  three  sisters  whom 
we  were  frequently  in  the  habit  of  visiting,  and  with  whom  I  was 
generally  in  high  spirits,  he  conceived  that  my  apparent  dejection 
resulted  from  some  pecuniary  pressure,  and  the  next  day  he  offered 
me  his  twenty  pounds,  telling  me  that  all  he  requested  was  as  early  a 
return  as  convenient,  his  own  situation  exposing  him  to  the  mortifi- 
cation of  pressing  applications.  He  was  totally  mistaken  as  to  the 
cause  of  my  gravity.  He  was  sometime  in  partnership  with  Mr. 
Clinch,  a  bookseller,  at  Bath,  but  preferring  the  writing  to  the  vend- 
ing of  books,  he  relinquished  the  concern.    When  I  first  became 


MRS.  KAUFFMAN — MR.  PRATT. 


3T 


acquainted  with  him,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  gratifying  the  company 
with  recitations  from  the  poets,  which  he  gave  with  impressive  effect ; 
but  latterly,  the  violent  expression  and  energy  of  his  delivery  ren- 
dered it  harsh  and  almost  ludicrous.  Poor  Pratt !  he  was  one  of  my 
earliest  literary  friends,  and  1  cannot  but  feel  much  pleasure  in  the 
opportunity  of  rescuing  his  character  from  the  relentless  rancour  of 
Miss  Seward's  posthumous  defamation. 

The  celebrated  Angelica  Kauffman,  who  was  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Pratt,  presented,  drawings  to  him  for  the  -illustrations  of  some  of  his 
works.  This  lady  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing,  but  by  all 
accounts  her  person  wTas  highly  interesting,  and  her  manners  and 
accomplishments  were  peculiarly  attractive.  It  is  said  that  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  who  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  human  nature, 
and  never  likely  to  be  deceived  in  his  estimate  of  individuals,  was  so 
much  attached  to  her  that  he  solicited  her  hand.  It  appeared,  how- 
ever, that  she  refused  him,  as  she  was  attached  to  mediate  Sir  Natha- 
niel Holland,  then  Mr.  Dance,  an  eminent  painter,  whose  portrait  of 
Garrick,  in  the  character  of  Richard  the  Third,  is  the  best  and  most 
spirited  representation  of  that  unrivalled  actor  that  ever  appeared, 
though  all  the  most  distinguished  artists  of  the  time  employed  them- 
selves on  the  same  admirable  subject.  The  correspondence  that  had 
taken  place  between  Mrs.  Kauffman  and  Mr.  Dance  became  known, 
and  was  thought  to  be  of  a  very  interesting  description,  insomuch  that 
his  majesty  George  the  Third,  who  generally  heard  of  any  thing 
worth  attention,  requested  Mr.  Dance  would  permit  him  to  peruse 
the  letters  that  had  passed  between  them  during  their  courtship. 
What  put  a  period  to  an  intercourse  which,  being  founded  upon 
mutual  attachment,  held  forth  so  favourable  a  prospect  of  mutual 
happiness,  has  never  been  developed,  and  is  only  matter  of  conjecture. 
Mrs.  Kauffman,  after  the  termination  of  this  promising  courtship,  went 
abroad,  and  was  unfortunately  deluded  into  a  marriage  with  a  common 
footman,  in  Germany,  who  had  assumed  a  title,  and  appeared  to  be  a 
person  of  high  rank  and  affluence.  Mrs.  Kauffman,  it  is  said,  by  the 
intervention  of  friends  had  recourse  to  legal  authorities,  was  enabled 
to  separate  from  the  impostor,  but  did  not  return  to  this  country,  and 
died  a  few  years  after,  having  never  recovered  her  spirits  after  the 
shock  of  so  degrading  an  alliance.  It  is  not  a  little  surprising  that  a 
lady  so  intelligent  and  accomplished  should  have  been  the  victim  of 
such  a  deception. 

The  end  of  Mr.  Pratt  was  lamentable.  He  resided  for  a  short 
time  before  his  death  at  Birmingham,  and  was  thrown  from  his 
horse.  He  suffered  severe  contusions  by  the  fall.  A  fever  ensued, 
which  in  a  few  days  deprived  him  of  life.  ^ 


3S 


RECORDS  OP  MY  UtFE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Among  those  persons  with  whom  I  became  acquainted  at  the 
apartments  of  Mrs.  Brooke,  was  Mr.  Henry  Griffith,  one  of  the 
authors  of  the  Letters  of  Henry  and  Frances,  which  were  published 
in  six  volumes.  These  letters  are  of  a  romantic  description,  and 
perhaps  abound  with  more  quotations  than  are  to  be  found  in  any 
other  English  work,  except  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  though 
those  in  the  latter  are  much  more  learned  ;  still  the  lovers  of  either 
sex,  who  may  require  extracts  from  the  poets  and  other  authors  to 
strengthen  their  gallant  effusions,  can  hardly  apply  to  a  more  ample 
storehouse  than  to  the  Letters  of  Henry  and  Frances.  The  heroine 
of  the  correspondence  was,  I  believe,  Mr.  Griffith's  cousin,  to  whom 
he  was  married,  and  from  all  I  heard,  they  were  a  happy  couple. 
They  were  both  authors  by  profession.  His  literary  compositions 
were  chiefly  written  for  magazines  and  newspapers,  but  I  know  not 
if  he  ever  put  his  name  to  any  of  them.  His  wife  displayed  her 
literary  powers  with  success.  Her  comedy  of  "The  School  for 
Rakes"  was  well  received  by  the  public,  and  had  the  advantage  of 
being  supported  by  the  whole  comic  strength  of  the  Drury-lane 
company  during  the  management  of  Garrick.  The  chief  performer 
was  Reddish,  who  was  a  very  respectable  actor  at  that  time,  but 
who,  when  not  much  past  the  prime  of  life,  became  insane,  and 
never  recovered.  I  saw  him  in  St.  Luke's  Hospital,  and  found  him 
flattering  himself  that  he  should  be  able  to  resume  his  profession,  and 
fulfil  his  engagement  with  the  manager  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre. 
It  was  lamentable  to  observe  the  alteration  in  his  person,  manners, 
and  attire.  The  change  in  the  former  might  easily  be  accounted 
for,  as  he  was  necessarily  confined  to  spare  diet.  He  always  dressed 
in  his  sane  state  like  a  gentleman,  but  in  Bedlam  he  had  all  the  tinsel 
finery  of  a  strolling  actor,  or  what  is  styled  "  shabby  genteel."  He 
seemed  to  be  drinking  a  bowl  of  milk,  which,  though  several  visiters 
were  present,  he  appeared  eagerly  to  gobble  like  a  hungry  rustic. 

His  insanity  took  place  soon  after  an  unlucky  occurrence  at 
Covent  Garden,  the  first  night  of  his  engagement.  He  appeared  in 
the  part  of  Hamlet,  and  in  the  fencing  scene  between  him  and 
Laertes,  Whitfield,  who  performed  the  latter  character,  made  so 
clumsy  a  lunge,  that  he  struck  off  the  bagwig  of  Hamlet,  and  exposed 
his  bald  pate  to  the  laughter  of  the  audience.  In  conversing  with 
him  in  Bedlam,  I  soothed  him  by  telling  him  that  I  was  present  at 
the  scene,  and  that  though  the  accident  had  a  risible  effect,  the 
audience  knew  the  fault  was  wholly  to  be  ascribed  to  the  awkward- 
ness of  his  competitor.  The  mortification,  however,  made  so  strong 
an  impression  on  his  mind,  that  he  never  appeared  on  the  stage  again, 
and,  I  heard,  ended  his  days  in  the  infirmary  at  York.    He  was  the 


WILLIAM  DONALDSON,  ESQ. — LUCY  COOPER.  3# 

second  husband  of  Mrs.  Canning,  the  mother  of  our  late  eminent 
statesman  Mr.  George  Canning.  He  distinguished  himself  chiefly 
in  the  characters  of  Edgar,  Posthumus,  and  Henry  the  Sixth  in  the 
play  of  "  Richard  the  Third."    Poor  Reddish  ! 

The  next  friend  of  my  father,  whose  memory  I  cherish  with 
respect  and  affection,  was  William  Donaldson,  Esq.    He  was,  I 
understood,  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  to  King 
George  the  Second,  but  I  have  since  been  informed  that  such  a 
situation  was  not  likely  to  be  occupied  by  a  person  unallied  to 
nobility.    That  his  father  was  a  gentleman,  and  in  good  circumstances, 
is  highly  probable,  as  the  son  had  partly  received  his  education 
abroad,  and  was  deemed  a  good  Latin  and  French  scholar.    He  had 
passed  the  meridian  of  life  when  I  first  knew  him,  though  he  had 
long  been  intimate  with  my  father.    His  friendship  for  the  latter 
induced  him  to  give  me  an  encouraging  reception  at  his  house  on, 
Turnham  Green,  which  was  always  open  to  me  when  I  could  spare 
a  few  days,  and  my  father  did  not  require  my  assistance  in  his 
profession  ;  and  I  was  always  rejoiced  at  the  opportunity  of  passing 
my  time  with  so  amiable  ^tnd  intelligent  a  man.    My  opinion  of  Mr. 
Donaldson's  merits  is  supported  by  that  of  my  friend  Sir  William 
Beechey,  who  knew  him  at  an  earlier  period  than  I  did,  and  who, 
being  older  and  more  experienced  than  myself,  was  better  qualified 
to  decide  upon  his  character.    There  was  a  variety,  intelligence,  and 
spirit  in  his  conversation,  which  I  have  seldom  found  in  persons  who 
have  been  more  distinguished  in  the  world,  and  admired  for  their 
convivial  powers  and  store  of  anecdotes,  particularly  as  he  excelled 
in  the  imitation  of  foreign  manners  and  languages,  which  enabled 
him  to  give  a  strong  effect  to  every  thing  he  said.    He  bought  two 
houses  at  Turnham  Green,  one  of  which  he  occupied  himself,  and 
the  other  he  let  to  Lucy  Cooper,  a  lady  more  celebrated  for  wit  and 
beauty  than  for  chastity.    She  was  distinguished  in  the  regions  of 
promiscuous  gallantry  at  the  time  when  Fanny  Murray  and  Kitty 
Fisher  were  her  chief  rivals  in  the  circles  of  dissipation. 

I  will  leave  Mr.  Donaldson  for  a  few  moments,  as  I  write  only 
from  recollection,  lest  I  should  forget  what  might  never  recur  to  me. 
Lucy  Cooper,  the  fair  but  faded  tenant  of  Mr.  Donaldson,  I  remember 
to  have  seen  once,  and  she  appeared  to  me  to  retain  the  traces  of  a 
face  not  strikingly  handsome,  but  exhibiting  nevertheless  an  expression 
of  interesting  languor.  Her  figure  had  probably  been  of  the  middle 
size,  and  her  manner  appeared  to  indicate  the  lady,  with  a  softness 
bordering' upon  dejection.  At  this  time  she  had  for  many  years 
retired  from  what  may  be  styled  public  life,  and,  with  an  annuity 
that  enabled  her  to  live  comfortably,  had  fixed  her  residence  at 
Turnham  Green.  She  was  reputed  to  be  a  woman  of  more  under- 
standing than  her  fair  rivals  above  mentioned,  but  with  less  ofl'usage 
du  monde.  Knowing  how  uncertain  are  the  wages  of  profligacy,  she 
had,  as  I  was  informed,  been  anxious  to  prepare  against  the  decay  of 
beauty,  and  secure  an  independence  against  the  winter  of  life.  While 
she  was  under  the  protection,  as  it  is  styled,  of  a  voung  nobleman  of 

C2 


40 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


great  fortune,  after  he  had  been  pouring  forth  vows  of  eternal  attach- 
ment, like  Prior's  Celadon  to  his  Celia,  Lucy  Cooper  thought  it  a 
good  opportunity  for  her  to  try  to  induce  him  to  settle  upon  her 
some  permanent  provision,  and  with  a  melancholy  softness,  adverting 
to  the  uncertainty  of  her  situation,  she  asked  him,  if,  after  such  an 
avowal  of  his  fondness  and  unalterable  constancy,  he  could  bear  to 
see  her  sink  into  poverty  in  age.  The  romance  of  the  lover  was 
over  in  a  moment,  and  he  coolly  answered,  "  No,  for  by^G —  I  would 
not  then  see  you  at  all."  Lucy  used  to  relate  this  incident  with  a 
smile,  and  with  a  sarcastic  compliment  to  the  fidelity  of  man. 

Daring  her  residence  at  Turnham  Green,  a  young  good-looking 
man  lived  in  the  house  with  her,  whose  name  was  Richardson.  He 
assumed  the  appearance  of  a  clergyman,  and  being  inoffensive  in  his 
manners,  and  considered  as  her  relation,  he  was  admitted  into  a  club 
at  the  Packhorse,  opposite  to  Mr.  Donaldson's  house.  Dr.  Wolcot, 
Mr.  Jerningham,  Mr.  Jesse  Foot,  and  myself,  were  afterward  mem- 
bers of  the  same  club,  and  also  Dr.  Griffith,  the  founder  of  "  The 
Monthly  Review."  Lucy  Cooper  died  after  a  lingering  illness  of 
some  years.  Richardson  was  then  thrown  upon  the  world,  and  soon 
after  left  the  place.  What  became  of  him  was  not  known,  but  having 
a  good  memory,  I  many  years  after  recognised  him  in  the  capacity 
of  a  foreman  at  a  woollen-draper's  on  Snow-hill.  Not  long  after,  I 
saw  him  at  the  head  of  a  cook's  shop  in  Newgate-street,  slicing  the 
beef  for  casual  customers.  His  next  transformation  was  into  a 
butcher,  opposite  to  Gray's-inn-lane,  Hoi  born ;  and  finally,  I  saw 
him  with  a  basket,  lined  with  a  clean  napkin,  parading  the  streets 
with  country  pork  and  poultry.  I  heard  that  he  afterward  became 
a  baker,  in  King-street,  Seven  Dials. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  him  was  under  the  gateway  leading  from 
Henrietta-street,  Covent  Garden,  to  the  churchyard,  where  we  had 
both  sought  shelter  from  the  rain.  I  saw  evidently  that  he  had 
recognised  me  through  all  his  vicissitudes,  as  the  juvenile  visiter  to 
Mr.  Donaldson  ;  and  as  he  stood  near  me,  and  looked  at  me  with 
the  utmost  diffidence,  as  if  subdued  by  misfortune,  though  decently 
attired,  I  entered  into  conversation  with  him,  and  he  reminded  me 
that  he  had  often  seen  me  since  what  he  styled  his  happier  days.  I 
then  observed  that  I.  had  formerly  supposed  him  to  be  a  clergyman, 
and  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  been  a  member  of  the  church,  merely 
to  make  him  think  that  I  viewed  him  with  respect.  He  seemed 
gratified  to  talk  with  one  who  had  seen  him  in  better  times,  and  told 
me  that  he  came  from  a  good  family,  that  he  was  once  a  linen-draper, 
with  a  prosperous  business  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Grosvenor-square, 
but  that  keeping  a  saddle-horse,  and  aspiring  beyond  the  rank  of  a 
tradesman,  he  had  become  a  bankrupt,  and,  to  secure  himself  from 
actual  want,  had  formed  a  connexion  with  Lucy  Cooper,  who  could 
leave  him  nothing  at  her  death  but  good-will  and  kind  wishes.  He 
was  obviously  much  affected  when  he  spoke  of  the  lady.  He  made 
no  application  for  pecuniary  assistance,  nor,  by  his  appearance  at 
that  time,  did  he  seem  to  require  it.    It  is  probable,  however,  that 


WILLIAM  DONALDSON,  ESQ.  MISS  GRAHAM, 


41 


he  underwent  many  other  vicissitudes.  He  must  be  very  old  if  still 
alive,  but  I  hope  he  has  been  released  from  the  caprices  of  fortune 
and  the  miseries  of  life, — miseries  from  which  pride,  wealth,  and 
folly,  as  well  as  guilt,  cannot  escape  in  this  world  of  universal  trouble. 

I  now  return  to  Mr.  Donaldson.  He  was  the  nephew  of  Mr. 
Wood,  a  gentleman  who  held  a  high  post  at  the  custom-house,  and 
who  wrote  an  answer  to  Lord  Bolingbroke  with  so  much  candour 
and  good  sense,  that  the  noble  philosopher  desired  to  be  acquainted 
with 'him.  In  one  of  his  visits  to  his  lordship  at  Battersea,  he  took 
young  Donaldson  with  him.  Mr.  Donaldson  told  me  he  never  saw 
so  expressive  a  face  as  that  of  Lord  Bolingbroke,  and  when  his 
lordship  looked  at  him,  his  eyes  were  so  penetrating  that  he  felt 
quite  abashed.  Whether  Mr.  Wood's  book  was  on  political  or 
philosophical  topics,  I  do  not  remember.  Mr.  Wood,  in  order  to  keep 
his  nephew  out  of  harm's  way,  employed  him  for  a  few  hours  every 
day  at  the  custom-house.  He  lodged  in  the  same  house  with  his 
uncle  in  Chancery-lane. 

What  induced  Mr.  Donaldson  to  visit  Ireland  at  a  later  period,  I 
know  not.  He  there,  however,  became  acquainted  with  a  very  fine 
woman,  who  proved  in  time  an  excellent  actress :  this  was  the  cele- 
brated Mrs.  Yates,  who  then  went  by  the  name  of  Miss  Graham. 
Mr.  Donaldson  was  a  handsome  man,  and  it  is  by  no  means  surprising 
that  his  person,  intelligent  mind,  and  sprightly  conversation,  should 
have  made  an  impression  on  Miss  Graham,  and  that  he  should  have 
been  captivated  by  her  fine  figure  and  beautiful  face.  Mr.  Thomas 
Sheridan,  the  father  of  my  old  friend  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan, 
was  then  a  young  man,  and  though  of  a  grave  character,  was  probably 
not  insensible  to  the  charms  of  a  fine  woman,  and  at  that  time,  perhaps, 
there  was  not  a  finer  than  Miss  Graham.  She  was  to  accompany 
Mr.  Sheridan  to  England,  and  he  had  promised  to  endeavour  to 
procure  for  her  a  situation  on  the  London  stage.  When  Miss 
Graham  arrived  in  London,  she  attached  herself  wholly  to  Mr. 
Donaldson,  who  had  returned  to  England,  though  not  without  some 
regard  to  appearance  ;  but  they  might  be  said  to  live  together  about 
two  years.  What  put  a  stop  to  this  intercourse  I  know  not,  but  it  is 
not  improbable  that  Mr.  Yates,  one  of  the  best  comic  actors  of  his 
time,  had  paid  honourable  addresses  to  Miss  Graham,  and  that  they 
were  soon  afterward  married. 

Beautiful  as  she  was,  she  did  not  rise  into  eminence  as  an  actress 
for  many  years,  and  then  accidentally,  as  Mr.  Murphy  states  in  his 
"  Life  of  Garrick."  Mr.  Murphy  had  presented  his  tragedy  of"  The 
Orphan  of  China"  to  Mr.  Garrick,  who  had  accepted  it,  and  the  hero- 
ine of  the  piece  was  assigned  to  Mrs.  Cibber ;  but  that  actress,  like 
those  who  think  themselves  without  a  rival,  would  not  decide  whether 
she  should  condescend  to  act  the  part,  but  kept  the  author  and  manager 
in  suspense.  Finally,  she  pleaded  ill  health,  and  refused  it.  Mrs. 
Yates,  whom  the  author  had  first  preferred  on  account  of  the  supe- 
rior grandeur  of  her  person,  had  been  prepared  for  the  part,  in  order 
to  provide  against  the  illness  or  hesitating  pride  of  Mrs.  Cibber,  and 


/ 


42  RECORDS  OF  MY  LIPE. 

she  performed  it  so  well,  that  she  at  once  established  her  reputation 
«as  a  first-rate  actress,  and  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Gibber  had  no 
rival,  till  Mr.  Barry  brought  Mrs.  Dancer  to  London,  who  then 
divided  with  her  the  female  part  of  the  theatrical  empire.  Mrs.  Yates 
had  passed  the  meridian  of  life  when  I  first  saw  her,  but  she  had  still 
fine  remains  of  her  former  beauty,  and  was  an  excellent  actress, 
though  chiefly  in  tragedy. 

According  to  Mr.  Donaldson's  account,  there  was  a  remarkable 
change  in  the  temper  of  Mrs.  Yates  after  her  rise  to  distinction.  He 
said  that  while  she  resided  with  him  she  was  meek,  diffident,  and 
timid  ;  but  he  heard  that  when  she  had  risen  to  popularity  she  became 
imperious,  overbearing,  and  arrogant.  .  Such  is  too  often  the  effect 
of  power,  though,  perhaps,  the  mortifying  consciousness  of  declining 
beauty  might  contribute  to  sour  her  temper.  He  told  me  that  after 
he  had  been  some  years  in  Jamaica,  and  had  returned  to  this  country, 
as  he  was  walking  through  the  Haymarket,  a  lady  in  a  carriage 
saluted  him  with  great  earnestness,  and  eagerly  repeated  her  friendly 
greetings.  As  the  carriage  was  too  distant  for  him  to  recognise  the 
lady,  he  merely  raised  his  hat.  Finding  that  she  was  not  known,  and 
inferring,  as  he  afterward  conceived,  that  her  person  must  have  un- 
dergone a  great  change  for  the  worse,  she  sunk  back  in  the  carriage 
with  evident  dejection.  The  gentleman  in  the  carriage  with  her 
then  projected  his  head,  in  order  to  see  to  whom  her  eager  salu- 
tations were  directed,  and  that  gentleman  was  Mr.  Yates,  who  at 
once  enabled  Mr.  Donaldson  to  discover  in  the  unknown  fair  one  the 
object  of  his  youthful  admiration. 

Mr.  Donaldson,  in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  married  Miss  Faulkener, 
then  a  celebrated  singer  at  Marylebone  Gardens.  He  was  of  a  party 
of  pleasure  in  a  journey  to  Richmond  by  water.  Every  thing  was 
provided  for  dinner  on  board  of  the  vessel,  and  Miss  Faulkener  de- 
lighted the  company  so  much  by  her  musical  powers,  but  particularly 
Mr.  Donaldson,  that  he  paid  court  to  her,  and  being  a  handsome  and 
-sprightly  man,  soon  gained  her  affections,  and  they  were  married. 
As  Mr.  Donaldson,  in  our  frequent  walks  from  Turnham  Green  to 
Richmond  and  London,  informed  me  of  most  of  the  particulars  of 
his  life,  I  thought  it  strange  that  he  never  mentioned  his  marriage  to 
me ;  and  all  that  my  father  or  I  ever  knew  of  it  was  derived  from 
the  information  of  Mr.  Peter  Bardin,  a  respectable  actor  at  the  Good- 
mans Fields  theatre,  at  the  time  when  Garrick  burst  upon  the  world 
with  a  blaze  of  excellence  that  has  never  since  been  equalled.  Mr. 
Bardin  is  mentioned  in  the  History  of  the  Stage,  in  which  it  is  stated 
that  he  had  offended  the  audience  so  much  that  he  deemed  it  neces- 
sary to  quit  the  theatre.  Chetwood  does  not  relate  the  nature  of  the 
offence.  Bardin  then  became  the  manager  of  a  provincial  company 
of  actors,  and  finally  went  to  his  native  country,  Ireland.  \Vhen 
Barry  first  brought  Mrs.  Dancer  to  London,  Bardin  accompanied 
them,  and  they  all  performed  at  the  theatre  in  the  Haymarket,  where 
I  saw  them  when  very  young,  Barry  in  King  Lear,  Mrs.  Dancer  as 
Cordelia,  and  Bardin  as  Gloucester.  t  Bardin  was  an  intimate  friend 


MRS.  DONALDSON. 


43 


of  Mr.  Donaldson,  and  informed  my  father  and  myself  that  he  not 
only  kept  up  his  connexion  with  Mr.  Donaldson,  but  with  his  wife 
also,  after  their  separation,  as  he  had  been  their  friend  while  they 
lived  in  conjugal  happiness. 

According  to  Mr.  Bardin's  account,  Mrs.  Donaldson  was  obliged 
to  fulfil  her  engagement  as  a  singer  at  Marylebone  Gardens,  and 
during  her  performance,  the  Earl  of  Halifax  was  so  charmed  by  her 
musical  powers  that  he  actually  fainted  with  ecstacy.  He  soon 
became  acquainted  with  her,  and  withdrew  her  from  the  protection 
of  her  husband.  Mr.  Bardin  said  that  Mr.  Donaldson  at  first  deter- 
mined to  send  a  challenge  to  his  lordship,  but,  being  persuaded  from 
putting  his  life  in  hazard  for  a  woman  whom  he  could  never  receive 
again  without  discredit  to  himself,  he  acquiesced  in  the  opinion  of  his 
friends.  Though  possessed  of  the  means  of  living  like  a  gentleman, 
in  order  to  dissipate  the  gloom  arising  from  the  infidelity  of  a  beloved 
wife,  he  procured  the  situation  of  secretary  to  the  government  of 
Jamaica.  Sir  Henry  Moore  was  then  governor  of  the  island,  and 
Mr.  Donaldson  was  admitted  into  his  private  friendship  as  well  as  to 
his  official  confidence.  Mr.  Donaldson  always  spoke  of  Sir  Henry 
Moore  with  high  respect  and  regard.  Sir  Henry  first  told  the  story 
of  Monsieur  Tonson  to  Mr.  Donaldson,  from  whom  I  learned  it,  and 
was  in  the  habit  of  repeating  it  to  my  friends  in  prose ;  but  when 
Messrs.  Fawcett,  Holman,  and  Pope  were  giving  readings  and  reci- 
tations at  Freemasons'  Hall,  by  their  desire  I  versified  it,  and  Mr. 
Fawcett  delivered  it  with  so  much  character  and  humour  as  to  render 
it  more  popular  than  it  could  have  been  from  any  intrinsic  merits. 
Mr.  Donaldson  gave  the  tale  with  admirable  effect  in  prose,  and 
when  I  complimented  him  on  it,  he  assured  me  that  he  did  not  ap- 
proach the  humorous  manner  in  which  he  had  heard  it  recited  by 
Sir  Henry  Moore.  Having  acquired  a  competent  fortune,  Mr. 
Donaldson  returned  to  this  country,  resided  some  years  in  Craven- 
street,  and  finally  retired  to  Turnham  Green,  where  my  father  first 
introduced  me  to  him,  and  I  found  in  him  a  "  guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend,"  during  many  of  the  happiest  days  of  my  life.    It  is  proper  to 


Guinea,"  in  another  of  his  works,  giving  an  account  of  the  connexion 
between  Lord  Halifax  and  Mrs.  Donaldson,  states  that  his  lordship 
procured  the  appointment  for  Mr.  Donaldson  as  a  compensation  for 
the  loss  of  his  wife  ;  but  Mr.  Bardin,  who  knew  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  affair,  and  had  no  interest  in  concealing  the  truth  from  my 
father,  stated  the  matter  as  I  have  related  it.  And  if  I  may  believe 
Mrs.  Rudd,  Mr.  Johnson  was  not  a  writer  on  whose  veracity  any 
dependence  could  be  placed.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  him 
again. 

When  Mr.  Donaldson  was  in  Jamaica,  he  became  acquainted  with 
the  celebrated  Constantia  Phillips,  then  an  old  woman.  This  lady 
in  her  early  days  had  been  married  to  a  Dutch  merchant,  named 
Muilman,  who  afterward  deserted  her,  and  left  her  to  support  her- 
self in  the  best  way  she  could.    She  was  a  woman  of  great  sense 


author  of  "  The  Adventures  of  a 


44 


RECORDS  OF  IViY  LIFE- 


and  accomplishments,  and  became  acquainted  with  many  of  the 
higher  ranks  of  noblemen  in  this  country.  The  great  Lord  Chester- 
field, if  he  may  be  so  styled,  thought  so  favourably  of  her  talents,  that 
he  advised  her  to  write  "  The  Economy  of  Female  Life,"  as  a  sort  of 
companion  to  Mr.  Dodsley's  excellent  work  "  The  Economy  of 
Human  Life."  Constantia  Phillips,  at  the  time  when  Mr.  Donaldson 
knew  her  in  Jamaica,  was  married  to  a  hair-dresser.  She  originally 
went  to  that  island  with  Mr.  Needham,  who  possessed  great  property 
lhere,  and  was  well  known  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  London* 
She  told  Mr.  Donaldson  that,  of  all  her  admirers,  she  was  most 
attached  to  Mr.  Needham.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  this 
gentleman  again,  and  therefore  now  take  leave  of  Constantia  Phillips. 
It  is  a  melancholy  reflection,  that  a  woman  so  well  qualified  to  adorn 
private  life,  even  in  the  most  polished  circles  of  fashion,  and  who 
might  have  furnished  an  impressive  example  to  her  sex,  should  have 
been  induced,  or  rather  reduced,  to  accept  the  hand  of  a  worthless 
Dutchman,  and  to  become  by  his  desertion  the  victim  of  misfortune, 
misery,  and  disgrace. 

It  appears  strange  to  me,  considering  the  many  hours  I  passed  with 
Mr.  Donaldson  alone,  as  he  communicated  to  me  most  of  the  circum- 
stances of  his  life,  that  he  never  touched  upon  the  subject  of  his 
marriage  with  Miss  Faulkener ;  but  as  nothing  can  be  more  humi- 
liating to  a  man  than  the  desertion  of  his  wife,  it  is  probable  that  pride 
and  resentment  kept  him  silent. 

Mr.  Donaldson  told  me  that  once  having  betted  twenty  pounds  on 
a  horse  at  Newmarket,  he  won,  but  at  the  end  of  the  race  could  not 
hnd  the  person  who  had  lost.  Returning  to  London  the  next  day, 
his  post-chaise  was  stopped  by  a  highwayman,  whom  he  immediately 
recognised  as  the  loser  of  the  day  before.  He  addressed  the  high- 
wayman as  follows :  "  Sir,  I  will  give  you  all  I  have  about  me  if  you 
will  pay  me  the  twenty  pounds  which  I  won  of  you  yesterday  at 
Newmarket."  The  man  instantly  spurred  his  horse,  and  was  off  in  a 
moment.  It  is  somewhat  strange  that,  soon  after  Mr.  Donaldson 
landed  in  Jamaica,  he  saw  the  same  man  in  a  coffee-house.  He  ap- 
proached him,  and  in  a  whisper  reminded  him  of  his  loss  at  New- 
market ;  the  man  rushed  out  of  the  room,  and,  according  to  report, 
went  to  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  was  never  heard  of  again. 

Mr.  Donaldson  was  in  real  danger  from  another  highwayman, 
who  was  celebrated  in  his  day,  and  known  as  a  fashionable  man  by 
the  name  of  Maclaine.  This  man  came  from  Ireland,  and  made  a 
splendid  figure  for  some  time ;  but  as  his  means  of  support  were  not 
known,  he  was  generally  considered  as  a  doubtful  character.  He 
was  by  all  accounts  a  tall,  showy,  good-looking  man,  and  a  frequent 
visiter  at  Button's  Coffee-house,  founded,  as  is  well  known,  by  Addison, 
in  favour  of  an  old  servant  of  the  Warwick  family,  but  never  visited 
by  him  when  driven  from  his  home  by  the  ill-humour  of  his  wife  ;  he 
then  resorted  to  Will's,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  same  street,  that 
he  might  not  be  reminded  of  domestic  anxieties.  Button's  was  on 
ihe  south  side  of  Russell-street,  Covent  Garden ;  and  Will's  in  the 


"WILLIAM  DONALDSON,  ESQ. 


45 


same  street,  at  the  corner  of  Bow-street.  Button's  became  a  private 
house,  and  Mrs.  Inchbald  lodged  there.  Mr.  Donaldson,  observing 
that  Maclaine  paid  particular  attention  to  the  bar-maid,  the  daughter 
of  the  landlord,  gave  a  hint  to  the  father  of  Machine's  dubious 
character.  The  father  cautioned  his  daughter  against  the  addresses 
of  Maclaine,  and  imprudently  told  her  by  whose  advice  he  put  her  on 
her  guard  ;  she  as  imprudently  told  Maclaine.  The  next  time  Donald- 
son visited  the  coffee-room,  and  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  boxes, 
Maclaine  entered,  and  in  a  loud  tone  said,  44  Mr.  Donaldson,  I  wish 
to  spake  to  you  in  a  private  room."  Mr.  Donaldson  being  unarmed, 
and  naturally  afraid  of  being  alone  with  such  a  man,  said  in  answer, 
that,  as  nothing  could  pass  between  them  that  he  did  not  wish  the 
whole  world  to  know,  he  begged  leave  to  decline  the  invitation. 
"  Very  well,"  said  Maclaine,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  we  shall  mate 
again."  A  day  or  two  after,  as  Mr.  Donaldson  was  walking  near 
Richmond  in  the  evening,  he  saw  Maclaine  on  horseback,  who,  on 
perceiving  him,  spurred  the  animal,  and  was  rapidly  approaching  him  ; 
fortunately,  at  that  moment  a  gentleman's  carriage  appeared  in  view, 
when  Maclaine  immediately  turned  his  horse  towards  the  carriage, 
and  Donaldson  hurried  into  the  protection  of  Richmond  as  fast  as 
possible.  But  for  the  appearance  of  the  carriage,  which  presented 
better  prey,  it  is  probable  that  Maclaine  would  have  shot  Mr.  Donald- 
son immediately.  Maclaine  a  short  time  after  committed  a  highway 
robbery,  was  tried,  found  guilty,  and  hanged  at  Tyburn.  The  public 
prints  at  the  time,  I  understand,  were  full  of  accounts  of  this  gentle- 
man highwayman,  and  I  remember  the  following  two  stanzas  of  a 
song  that  was  current  at  the  time — 

Ye  Smarts  and  ye  Jemmies,  ye  Ramillie  beaux, 
With  golden  cock'd  hats  and  with  silver-laced  clothes, 
Who  by  wit  and  invention  your  pockets  maintain, 
Come  pity  the  fate  of  poor  Jemmy  Maclaine. 

Derry  down. 

He  robb'd  folks  genteelly,  he  robb'd  with  an  air, 

He  robb'd  them  so  well  that  he  always  took  care 

My  lord  was  not  hurt,  and  my  lady  not  frighted  ; 

And  instead  of  being  hang'd  he  deserv'd  to  be  knighted. 

Derry  down. 

Mr.  Donaldson  was  considered  a  good  scholar.  In  the  earlier 
part  of  his  life  he  published  a  kind  of  novel,  entitled  "  The  Life  and 
Adventures  of  Sir  Bartholomew  Sapscull,"  obviously  in  the  manner 
of  that  contemptible,  nauseous,  and  obscene  rhapsody,  Tristram 
Shandy.*    Mr.  Donaldson's  novel  savours  too  much  in  some  places 

*  The  author  of  "  The  Reverie,  or  a  Flight  to  the  Paradise  of  Fools,"  also  the 
author  of  "  The  Adventures  of  a  Guinea,"  a  man  of  taste  and  judgment,  men- 
tioning Sterne  in  the  former  work,  says,  "  He  was  raised  by  the  success  of  what  he 
"wrote  some  time  ago,  of  which  it  may  be  difficult  to  determine  whether  its  merit  lay 
in  its  oddity,  its  obscenity,  or  its  profaneness.  However,  the  thing  took  with  the 
public  taste  in  an  extraordinary  manner.  The  novelty  that  recommended  it  being 
worn  off,  there  was  little  or  no  notice  taken  of  it.   Besides,  he  had  exhausted  the 

C  3 


46 


RECORDS  dF  MY  LIFE* 


>cf  its  vicious  archetype,  but  contains  shrewd  observations  on  human 
life,  interspersed  wiih  sound  political  suggestions  and  allusions,  more 
especially  remarks  on  the  important  subject  of  agriculture,  which  he 
afterward  expanded  into  a  work  entitled  "  Agriculture  considered  as 
a  moral  and  political  duty."  Lord  Kaimes  commended  this  work  in 
one  of  his  later  publications,  but  was  wholly  unacquainted  with  the 
author.  Mr.  Donaldson  lived  long  enough  to  despise  his  juvenile 
novel,  and  to  regret  that  he  had  ever  written  it. 

In  his  latter  years  he  employed  himself  in  an  historical  work,  which 
he  entitled  "  Portraits  of  the  Kings  of  England,"  parts  of  which  he 
condescended  to  read  to  me,  thinking  more  favourably  of  me  than  I 
can  presume  to  imagine  that  I  had  deserved.  As  far  as  I  could  ven- 
ture to  form  an  opinion  at  the  time,  and  from  what  I  can  still  recol- 
lect, they  appear  to  me  to  have  shown  an  impartial  examination  of 
the  characters  and  conduct  of  the  respective  monarchs,  and  also  to 
have  comprised  a  just,  but  unpretending  history  of  the  country.  He 
had  collected  ample  materials  from  the  best  authorities,  and  1  cannot 
doubt  that  his  work,  when  completed,  would  have  been  a  valuable 
addition  to  British  literature.  He  published  a  few  numbers  of  a 
periodical  work  entitled  "  The  Reformer,"  intended  as  a  vindication 
of  the  measures  of  government  against  the  attacks  of  the  opposition. 
This  must  have  been  a  disinterested  work,  as  he  was  easy  in  his  cir- 
cumstances, devoted  to  literary  retirement,  and  wholly  unconnected 
with  ministers,  but  strongly  attached  to  his  majesty  George  the  Third. 
On  the  death  of  the  mother  of  that  monarch,  Mr.  Donaldson  wrote 
an  elegy,  in  which  he  reviled  her  enemies,  and  discountenanced  all  the 
opprobrious  insinuations  of  her  alleged  intimacy  with  his  majesty's 
favourite  northern  minister. 

Mr.  Owen  RufFhead,  who  published  the  Statutes  at  large,  and 
wrote  the  life  of  Pope,  from  materials  furnished  by  Bishop  Warbur- 
ton,  was  one  of  Mr.  Donaldson's  most  intimate  friends.  Mr.  Donald- 
son described  him  as  so  plain  a  man,  and  with  only  one  eye,  that 
when  he  entered  a  room,  every  one  was  disposed  to  exclaim,  "  What 
an  ugly  man  !"  but  when  he  joined  in  conversation,  his  voice  was  so 
sweet,  and  his  manners  so  very  engaging,  that  all  seemed  inclined  to 
fall  in  love  with  him.  It  is  somewhat  strange  that  Mr.  Owen  Ruff- 
head  should  have  been  so  conversant  with  the  dry  study  of  law,  and 
yet  have  displayed  such  a  taste  for  literature  as  appears  in  his  Life  of 
Pope.  Mr.  Donaldson  spoke  high  of  his  moral  character.  I  knew 
a  sister  of  Mr.  Ruffhead.  She  was  the  wife  of  one  of  the  officers 
of  Chelsea  Hospital,  and  she  retained  such  an  affection  for  him,  that 
though  he  had  been  dead  nearly  forty  years,  the  sense  of  her  loss 
deeply  affected  her  whenever  he  was  mentioned.  Mr.  Bentley,  who 
supplied  the  graphic  illustrations  to  Gray's  poem,  lived  at  Turnham 

spirit  of  obscenity  and  profaneness  in  the  first  parts,  that  there  remained  nothing  for 
him  now  but  dregs,  too  coarse  for  the  grossest  taste."  Such  was  the  opinion  of  an 
enlightened  writer  on  "Tristram  Shandy,"  and  I  heartily  wish  that  my  humble 
concurrence  were  of  force  sufficient  to  bring  the  fantastic  folly  into  universal 
-contempt. 


OWEN  RUFWIEAD.  WILLIAM  DONALDSON,  ESQ.  47 

Green,  and  was  also  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Donaldson.  Dr.  Grif- 
fiths, the  founder  of  "  The  Monthly  Review,"  a  man  of  great  expe- 
rience, and  a  good  judge  of  mankind,  used  to  characterize  Donaldson 
and  Bentley  as  "  the  eyes  of  Turnham  Green."  Mr.  Donaldson  was 
often  a  gratuitous  contributor  to  "The  Monthly  Review."  The 
"  luminaries,"  however,  would  have  been  a  more  appropriate  designa- 
tion, as  the  eyes  only  see,  but  the  others  irradiate. 

I  will  now  state  a  few  recollections  of  what  I  have  heard 
from  Mr.  Donaldson,  and  then  take  a  final  leave  of  him.  He  told  me 
that  he  was  acquainted  with  a  colonel,  whose  moral  worth  and 
scholastic  attainments  recommended  him  to  the  honour  of  being 
appointed  tutor  to  one  of  the  young  princes.  This  gentleman  had 
two  sons  of  the  most  depraved  character.  The  father  had  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  reform  them  by  precept,  exhortation,  and  example. 
They  both  became  highwaymen ;  one  was  taken,  convicted  of  rob- 
bery, and  ordered  for  execution.  The  brother  went  to  see  him  in 
Newgate  the  night  before  the  dreadful  penalty  of  the  law  was  to  be 
enforced,  and  finding  the  culprit  in  the  agonies  of  despair,  after 
attempting  to  console  him  in  the  usual  manner,  suddenly  exclaimed, 
u  Why  do  you  snivel  in  this  cowardly  manner,  when  you  must  know 
that  I  shall  meet  you  in  hell  next  sessions  ?"  The  fate  of  the  wretched 
man  had  no  effect  upon  the  surviving  profligate,  whose  flagitious 
career,  a  few  weeks  after,  terminated  in  the  same  disastrous  way. 
The  father  soon  after  resigned  his  employment,  and  sunk  into  the 
grave  with  unappeasable  dejection. 

What  the  religious  principles  of  Mr.  Donaldson  were,  I  never 
knew,  but  I  am  sure  he  had  too  manly  a  mind  to  give  way  to  super- 
stition. The  following  circumstance,  however,  he  told  me  as  a  fact 
in  which  he  placed  full  confidence,  on  account  of  the  character  of  the 
gentleman  who  related  it.  The  latter  was  a  particular  friend  of  his, 
and  a  member  of  parliament.  In  order  to  attend  the  House  of 
Commons,  he  had  taken  apartments  in  St.  Anne's  church-yard, 
Westminster.  On  the  evening  when  he  took  possession,  he  was 
struck  with  something  that  appeared  to  him  mysterious  in  the 
manner  of  the  maid-servant,  who  looked  like  a  man  disguised,  and 
he  felt  a  very  unpleasant  emotion.  This  feeling  was  strengthened 
by  a  similar  deportment  in  the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  soon  after 
entered  his  room,  and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  any  thing  before  he  re- 
tired to  rest :  disliking  her  manner,  he  soon  dismissed  her,  and  went 
to  bed,  but  the  disagreeable  impression  made  on  his  mind  by  the  maid 
and  mistress  kept  him  long  awake  ;  at  length,  however,  he  fell  asleep. 
During  his  sleep  he  dreamed  that  the  corpse  of  a  gentleman,  who 
had  been  murdered,  was  deposited  in  the  cellar  of  the  house.  This 
dream  co-operating  with  the  unfavourable,  or  rather  repulsive  coun- 
tenances and  demeanour  of  the  two  women,  precluded  all  hopes  of 
renewed  sleep,  and  it  being  the  summer  season,  he  arose  about  rive 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  took  his  hat,  and  resolved  to  quit  a  house  of 
such  alarm  and  terror.  To  his  surprise,  as  he  was  leaving  it,  he  met 
the  mistress  in  the  entry,  dressed,  as  if  she  had  never  gone  to  bed, 


48 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


£>he  seemed  to  be  much  agitated,  and  inquired  his  reason  for  wishing 
lo  go  out  so  early  in  the  morning.  He  hesitated  a  moment  with  in- 
creased alarm,  and  then  told  her  that  he  expected  a  friend,  who  was 
lo  arrive  by  a  stage  in  Bishopsgate-street,  and  that  he  was  going  to 
meet  him.  He  was  suffered  to  go  out  of  the  house,  and  when  re- 
vived by  the  open  air,  he  felt,  as  he  afterward  declared,  as  if  relieved 
from  impending  destruction.  He  stated  that  in  a  few  hours  after,  he 
returned  with  a  friend  to  whom  he  had  told  his  dream,  and  the  im- 
pression made  on  him  by  the  maid  and  the  mistress ;  he,  however, 
only  laughed  at  him  for  his  superstitious  terrors,  but  on  entering  the 
house,  they  found  that  it  was  deserted,  and  calling  in  a  gentleman 
■who  was  accidentally  passing,  they  all  descended  to  the  cellar,  and 
actually  found  a  corpse  in  the  state  which  the  gentleman's  dream  had 
represented. 

Before  I  make  any  observations  on  the  subject,  I  shall  introduce  a 
recital  of  a  similar  description,  and  care  not  if  skepticism  sneer,  or 
ridicule  deride,  satisfied  that  I  heard  it  from  one  on  whose  veracity 
I  could  most  confidently  depend.  I  will,  however,  now  take  leave 
of  Mr.  Donaldson,  though  I  could  with  pleasure  dwell  much  longer 
on  the  memory  of  so  valuable  a  friend. 

The  other  extraordinary  story  to  which  I  have  alluded,  I  heard 
from  what  I  consider  unimpeachable  authority.  Mrs.  Brooke,  whom 
I  have  already  mentioned,  told  me  that  she  was  drinking  tea  one 
evening  in  Fleet-street,  where  a  medical  gentleman  was  expected, 
but  did  not  arrive  till  late.  Apologizing  for  his  delay,  he  said  he  had 
attended  a  lady  who  suffered  under  a  contracted  throat,  which  occa- 
sioned her  great  difficulty  in  swallowing.  She  said  that  she  traced 
the  cause  to  the  following  circumstance.  When  she  was  a  young 
woman,  and  in  bed  with  her  mother,  she  dreamed  that  she  was  on 
the  roof  of  a  church,  struggling  with  a  man  who  attempted  1 1  throw 
lier  over.  He  appeared  in  a  carman's  frock,  and  had  red  hair.  Her 
mother  ridiculed  her  terrors,  and  bade  her  compose  herself  to  sleep 
again,  but  the  impression  of  her  dream  was  so  strong,  that  she  could 
not  comply.  In  the  evening  of  the  following  day,  she  had  appointed 
to  meet  her  lover  at  a  bowling-green,  from  which  he  was  to  conduct 
her  home  when  the  amusement  ended.  .She  had  passed  over  one 
iield  in  hopes  of  meeting  the  gentleman,  and  sung  as  she  tripped 
along,  when  she  entered  the  second  field,  and  accidentally  turning 
her  head,  she  beheld,  in  the  corner  of  the  field,  just  such  a  man  as 
her  dream  represented,  dressed  in  a  cartman's  frock,  with  red  hair, 
and  apparently  approaching  towards  her.  Her  agitation  was  so 
great,  that  she  ran  with  all  her  speed  to  the  stile  of  the  third  field, 
and  with  difficulty  got  over  it.  Fatigued,  however,  with  running, 
she  sat  on  the  stile  to  recover  herself,  and  reflecting  that  the  man 
might  be  harmless,  she  was  afraid  that  her  flight  on  seeing  him  might 
put  evil  and  vindictive  thoughts  into  his  head.  While  in  this  medita- 
tion, the  man  had  reached  the  stile,  and  seizing  her  by  the  neck,  he 
dragged  her  over  the  stile,  and  she  remembered  no  more.  It  appeared 
ahat  he  had  pulled  off  all  her  clothes,  and  thrown  her  into  an  adjoining 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  STORY — DR.  MONSEY. 


43 


ditch.  Fortunately,  a  gentleman  came  to  the  spot,  and  observing  a 
body  above  the  water,  he  hailed  others  who  were  approaching,  and 
it  was  immediately  raised.  It  was  evidently  not  dead,  and  some  of 
the  party  remarking  that  the  robber  could  not  be  far  off,  went  in 
pursuit  of  him,  leaving  others  to  guard  and  endeavour  to  revive  the 
body.  The  pursuers  went  different  ways,  and  some,  at  no  great 
distance,  saw  a  man  at  a  public-house  sitting  with  a  bundle  before 
him.  He  seemed  to  be  so  much  alarmed  at  the  sight  of  the  gentlemen, 
that  they  suspected  him  to  be  the  culprit,  and  determined  to  examine 
the  bundle,  in  which  they  found  the  dress  of  the  lady,  which  some  of 
them  recognised.  The  man  was,  of  course,  immediately  taken  into 
custody,  and  was  to  be  brought  to  trial  at  the  approaching  assizes. 
The  lady,  however,  was  too  ill  to  come  into  court,  but  appearances 
were  so  strong  against  him  that  he  was  kept  in  close  custody,  and 
when  she  was  able  to  give  evidence,  though  he  appeared  at  the  trial 
with  a  different  dress  and  with  a  wig  on,  she  was  struck  with  terror 
at  the  sight  of  him,  and  fainted,  but  gave  evidence  ;  the  culprit  was 
convicted  and  executed.  The  medical  gentleman  added,  that  when 
she  had  finished  her  narrative,  she  declared  that  she  felt  the  pressure 
of  the  man's  hand  on  her  neck  while  she  related  it,  and  that  her 
throat  had  gradually  contracted  from  the  time  when  the  melancholy 
event  occurred.  At  length  her  throat  became  so  contracted,  that  she 
was  hardly  able  to  receive  the  least  sustenance.  Mrs.  Brooke  never 
had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  more  of  the  lady. 

•- 


CHAPTER  VII. 

After  the  death  of  Mr.  Donaldson,  I  was  soon  introduced  by  my 
father  to  Dr.  Monsey,  physician  to  Chelsea  Hospital.  He  had  been 
private  and  resident  physician  to  the  Earl  of  Godolphin,  at  his  lordship's 
mansion  in  the  Stable-yard,  St.  James's.  In  consequence  of  this 
connexion,  and  by  his  original  humour,  talents,  and  learning,  he  became 
known  to  some  of  the  most  distinguished  of  our  nobility.  He  was 
very  blunt  in  his  manner,  which  has  often  been  compared  with  that 
of  Dean  Swift.  There  was,  however,  this  difference  in  their  charac- 
ters :  the  dean  would  vent  his  temper  often  with  brutal  insolence  and 
without  occasion ;  Monsey  was  never  harsh  in  his  manner,  except 
lo  correct  folly,  revile  vice,  and  ridicule  affectation.  He  was  born 
at  S  waff  ham,  in  Norfolk,  where  lie  had  an  extensive  practice,  and 
afterward  went  to  Norwich.  His  medical  tutor  was  a  very  famous 
physician  in  the  county  of  Norfolk,  named  Sir  Benjamin  Wrench,  the 
grandfather,  as  I  understand,  of  Mr.  Wrench,  a  popular  actor  on  the 
London  stage.  Sir  Benjamin  was  so  mild  in  his  manner  and  so  bland 
in  his  utterance,  that  he  gave  occasion  to  the  well-known,  but  perhaps 
nearly  obsolete,  designation  of  M  Silver-tongued  Sir  Benjamin."  Pr, 


50 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Monsey  thought  Sir  Benjamin  and  old  Dr.  Heberden  two  of  the 
wisest  and  most  amiable  men  he  had  ever  known,  as  well  as  two 
excellent  physicians.  There  was  a  portrait  of  Sir  Benjamin  in 
Dr.  Monsey's  drawing-room  at  Chelsea  Hospital,  which  the  doctor 
often  looked  at  with  great  reverence,  and  never  without  paying  an 
affectionate  tribute  to  his  memory.  The  painting  was  by  no  means 
unskilful  as  a  work  of  art,  and  the  portrait  had  that  expression  of 
mild  benignity  which  was  generally  ascribed  to  the  original. 

Dr.  Monsey  told  the  following  story  of  Sir  Benjamin,  as  a  fact 
which  he  knew,  but  which  I  have  since  heard  attributed  to  others. 
Sir  Benjamin  had  visited  a  patient  who  had  only  given  him  a  guinea 
as  a  fee,  after  a  long  and  tedious  consultation,  which  Sir  Benjamin 
deemed  an  insufficient  recompense.  He  therefore  desired  to  have  a 
lighted  candle,  though  it  was  noon-day,  and  when  he  received  it  he 
stooped  and  looked  about  the  room.  Being  asked  if  he  missed  any 
thing,  he  said  he  was  afraid  that  he  had  dropped  a  guinea.  The 
patient  took  the  hint,  and  the  doctor  departed  fully  satisfied. 

Dr.  Monsey  was  educated  at  Pembroke  Hall,  Cambridge,  where 
he  caught  punning,  but  seldom  condescended  to  practise  it,  yet  he 
had  all  Dean  Swift  "  by  heart,"  to  use  the  old  expression.  He  used 
to  relate  many  puns  of  his  college  contemporaries,  which  I  have  for- 
gotten. I  remember  only  one,  which  is,  perhaps,  not  worth  reviving. 
An  old  member  of  St.  John's  College,  the  high  mart  of  punning, 
observing  a  carpenter  putting  a  wooden  covering  over  a  bell  to  pre- 
vent the  rain  from  injuring  it^told  the  carpenter  that  the  covering 
was  too  small.  The  man  respectfully  declared  that  it  was  large 
enough.  "  Why,"  said  the  inveterate  punster,  "  in  spite  of  your  cover- 
ing, the  bell  must  be  now  so  wet  you  can  (w)ring  it." 

Another  sally  of  humour,  though  from  a  lower  character,  was  of 
a  higher  order  if  intended.  A  querulous  old  fellow,  high  in  one  of 
the  colleges,  was  perpetually  complaining  of  something  at  the  table. 
On  one  occasion  he  found  fault  with  a  large  pewter  dish  which  con- 
tained a  calfs-head.  The  old  gentleman  declared  that  the  dish  was 
dirty,  and  the  cook  was  ordered  up  to  be  sconced.  "  Why  is  this 
dish  so  dirty  ?"  said  old  querulous.  "  Dirty,"  said  the  man,  "  it  is  so 
clean  that  you  may  see  your  face  in  it"  All  but  the  old  gentleman 
took  the  answer  as  a  good  joke,  if  not  accidental ;  and  the  old  gentle- 
man unconsciously  continued  his  complaint. 

One  story  is  certainly  worth  recording.  Dr.  Monsey,  with  two  or 
three  old  members  of  the  university,  in  the  course  of  an  evening 
walk,  differed  about  a  proper  definition  of  man.  While  they  were 
severally  offering  their  notions  on  the  subject,  they  came  to  a  wall 
where  an  itinerant  artist  had  drawn  various  representations  of  ani- 
mals, ships,  &c.  After  complimenting  him  on  his  skill,  one  of  the 
gentlemen  asked  him  if  he  could  draw  an  inference.  "  No,"  said  the 
artist,  "  I  never  saw  one."  Logic  then  gave  way  to  jocularity,  and  a 
man  coming  by  with  a  fine  team  of  horses,  they  stopped  him,  spoke 
highly  of  the  condition  of  his  horses,  particularly  admiring  the  first. 
"  That  horse,  carter "  said  another  of  the  gentlemen,  "  seems  to  be 


LORD  SOMERS — DR.  MOUSEY. 


a  very  strong  one ;  I  suppose  he  could  draw  a  butt."  The  man 
assented.  "  Do  you  think  he  could  draw  an  inference  ?" — "  Why," 
said  the  man,  4<  he  can  draw  any  thing  in  reason."  "  There,"  said 
Monsey,  "  what  becomes  of  your  definition,  when  you  met  a  man 
that  could  not  draw  an  inference  and  a  horse  that  could?" 

Before  Monsey  settled  as  a  physician  in  London,  he  had  been  very 
intimate  with  Sir  Robert  Walpole.  Sir  Robert  was  fond  of  wit  and 
humour,  and  sometimes  gave  a  dinner  to  his  friends  at  an  inn  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  own  seat,  Houghton  Hall.  The  landlord  of 
this  inn  was  reputed  to  be  a  great  wit,  and  Sir  Robert  admired  his 
prompt  humour  so  much,  that  he  generally  desired  him  after  dinner 
to  join  the  company  and  take  his  place  at  the  social  board.  The 
company  were  generally  gratified  by  the  humour  of  the  landlord, 
who  by  the  encouragement  of  Sir  Robert  was  admitted  upon  terms 
of  equality.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  when  Monsey  was  of  the 
party,  an  old  dull  Norfolk  baronet,  who  had  nothing  to  recommend 
him  but  wealth,  was  so  jealous  of  the  attention  which  the  landlord 
received,  that  he  openly  remonstrated  with  Sir  Robert  on  his  permit- 
ting such  a  man  to  sit  in  his  company.  The  landlord  modestly  ob- 
served, that  as  Sir  Robert,  who  gave  the  dinner,  and  all  the  gentle- 
men present,  condescended  to  admit  him,  he  saw  no  reason  why 
the  baronet  should  take  exceptions.  "  Pho,"  said  the  baronet,  "  your 
father  was  a  butcher." — "  Well,"  said  the  landlord,  "  there  is  no  great 
difference  between  your  father  and  mine,  for  if  my  father  hilled 
calves  yours  brought  them  up"  All  the  company  took  the  joke  im- 
mediately, except  the  baronet,  who  replied,  "  What !  do  you  make 
my  father  a  grazier  ?" 

When  Monsey  established  himself  in  London,  his  skill  as  a  phy- 
sician and  the  oddity  of  his  humour,  as  well  as  his  professional  sagacity, 
introduced  him  to  persons  of  the  highest  rank,  who  had  sense  enough 
to  overcome  the  pride  of  nobility.  Among  others  was  the  Lord 
Townshend  of  that  day.  He  told  the  doctor  that  when  the  great 
Lord  Somers  had  fallen  into  imbecility,  he  was  still  apparently  anxious 
to  appear  in  the  character  of  a  statesman,  regularly  attending  the 
cabinet  council,  where  he  sat  in  unobserving  silence,  and  was  regarded 
with  great  respect,  but  merely  as  a  child  before  whom  any  discussion 
might  take  place.  The  only  symptom  of  remembrance  or  recog- 
nition that  he  discovered  was  when  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  began 
to  speak,  and  he  then  uttered  a  shouting  noise,  as  if  he  recollected 
that  his  grace  was  the  only  authority  upon  a  military  subject  that 
deserved  attention.  The  duke,  upon  the  breaking  up  of  the  council, 
always  used  to  say  to  Lord  Townshend,  "  If  I  am  reduced  to  the  state 
of  Lord  Somers,  for  Heaven's  sake  save  me,  save  me." 

It  happened  unfortunately  that  his  grace  was  reduced  to  a  similar 
state  of  imbecility,  and,  like  Lord  Somers,  would  always  attend  the 
cabinet  council.  He  was  also  so  enfeebled  in  body,  that  he  could 
not  walk  without  the  danger  of  falling,  but  so  jealous  that  he  refused 
assistance  lest  his  weakness  should  be  suspected ;  and  Lord  Towns- 
hend used  to  say  that  upon  such  occasions  he  was  obliged  to  pretend 


52 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


the  floor  was  so  slippery  that  he  was  in  danger  of  falling  at  every  step, 
and  therefore  begged  his  grace's  arm,  that  they  might  support  each 
other,  and  in  this  manner  he  cheated  the  duke  into  safety.  The  doctor 
had  known  one  of  the  house-porters  at  Marlborough  House  when  in 
a  former  service,  and  requested  that  he  would  permit  him,  as  he 
never  saw  his  grace,  to  conceal  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  hall,  that 
he  might  see  the  duke  enter  his  sedan-chair  when  he  went  on  an  airing. 
The  man  consented,  but  desired  the  doctor  not  to  let  the  duke  see 
him,  as  his  grace  was  always  much  disturbed  at  the  sight  of  a  stranger. 
The  doctor  went  behind  the  door,  but  in  his  eagerness  to  see  the 
duke,  he  projected  his  head  too  far,  and  caught  his  grace's  eye.  The 
duke,  all  the  while  that  he  was  getting  into  the  chair,  and  when  he 
was  seated,  kept  his  eye  steadily  fixed  on  the  doctor,  and  at  the 
moment  when  the  chairmen  were  carrying  him  away,  Monsey  saw  his 
features  gather  into  a  whimper  like  a  child,  and  tears  start  into  his 
eyes.  That  respectable  biographer,  Archdeacon  Coxe,  in  his  life  of 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  appears  to  represent  him  as  having  retained 
his  mental  powers  to  the  last ;  but  as  he  derived  his  chief  materials 
from  the  archives  of  the  family,  it  is  not  probable  that  they  would 
comprise  any  records  of  imbecility,  while  Monsey's  testimony  wras  the 
evidence  of  an  eyewitness,  and  corroborates  that  of  Lord  Towns- 
hend  on  the  duke's  attendance  at  the  cabinet  council.  His  grace's 
favourite  and  constant  expression  of  censure  was  the  word  "  silly." 

The  duchess  was  asked  how  it  happened  that,  among  her  many 
enemies,  and  the  numerous  attacks  upon  her,  nothing  was  ever 
alleged  against  her  conjugal  fidelity.  Her  answer  was,  that  as  she 
had  the  handsomest  and  finest  man  in  Europe,  nobody  would  believe 
that  she  could  listen  to  the  jack-a-dandies  of  the  clay.  The  duchess 
was  violent  in  her  temper  and  coarse  in  her  language,  and  Pope's 
character  of  Atossa  was  generally  admitted  at  the  time  to  be  an 
exact  portrait  of  her.  It  is  well  known  that  Lady  Mary  Churchill, 
one  of  her  daughters,  who  married  the  Earl  of  Godolphin,  was  very 
partial  to  Congreve  the  poet,  who  used  generally  to  dine  with  her 
till  his  infirmities  put  an  end  to  the  intercourse.  On  the  death  of 
Congreve,  she  had  a  small  statue  of  him  placed  always  on  her  din- 
ner-table with  a  plate  before  it,  and  she  used  to  address  the  figure  as 
if  a  living  person,  offering  to  help  him  to  whatever  he  preferred. 
The  duchess,  her  mother,  in  her  usual  rough  manner,  never  men- 
tioned her  but  by  the  name  of  Moll  Congreve. 

The  Earl  of  Godolphin,  with  whom  Dr.  Monsey  resided,  was  a 
very  mild  and  amiable  nobleman,  of  a  retired  disposition.  He  was 
very  fat  and  difficult  to  bleed; 'but  my  father,  who  attended  him  as 
an  oculist  by  Monsey's  recommendation,  always  successfully  per- 
formed the  operation,  and  the  earl  requested  his  assistance  in  that 
way  when  his  eyes  were  wholly  unaffected.  The  noble  lord  only 
read  two  works,  viz.  "Burnet's  History  of  his  own  Times,"  and 
"Coliey  Gibber's  Apology."  When  he  had  perused  these  works 
throughout,  he  began  them  again,  and  seemed  to  be  regardless  of  all 
other  authors.    On  some  occasions,  the  earl  wishing  to  get  rid  of 


THE  EARL  OF  GODOLPHIN  DR.  MONSEY. 


53 


domestic  state,  used  to  dine  in  a  private  room,  at  the  Thatched 
House  in  St.  James's-street,  with  Monsey  alone.  On  one  of  these 
occasions,  as  Monsey  sauntered  up  St.  James's-street,  leaving  the 
earl  over  a  newspaper,  he  met  old  Lord  Townshend,  who  learning 
where  Lord  Godolphin  was,  said  he  would  dine  with  him.  Monsey 
bitterly  regretted  what  he  had  said,  but  there  was  no  remedy,  as 
Lord  Townshend  was  a  rough,  boisterous,  determined  man.  When 
he  entered  the  tavern-room,  addressing  Lord  Godolphin,  he  said, 
'•  Now,  my  lord,  I  know  you  don't  like  this  intrusion."  The  earl 
mildly  said  in  answer,  "  Why,  my  lord,  to  say  the  truth,  I  really  do 
not,  bec#ise  I  have  only  ordered  a  dinner  for  Monsey  and  myself, 
and  have  nothing  fit  for  your  lordship  unless  you  will  wait."  "  No, 
no,"  said  Lord  Townshend,  "  any  thing  will  do  for  me  f  sitting  down 
and  indulging. in  a  sort  of  tumultuous  gayety,  very  unsuitable  to  the 
placid  temper  of  Lord  Godolphin.  In  the  course  of  conversation, 
Lord  Townshend  said,  "  My  lord,  does  Monsey  flatter  you  V  "  I 
hope  not,"  said  the  earl,  mildly.  Monsey  immediately  said,  "  I  never 
practised  flattery,  because  1  think  none  but  a  knave  could  give  it, 
and  none  but  a  fool  receive  it."  "  That  may  be,"  added  Lord 
Townshend,  "  but  by  G —  we  all  like  it !"  "  I  wish  I  had  known 
your  lordship's  opinion,"  said  Monsey,  "  before  I  had  made  my 
foolish  speech." 

I  do  not  mention  this  anecdote  as  interesting  in  itself,  but  as  an 
illustration  of  character ;  and  Monsey  was  too  conspicuous  in  his  day 
to  be  unworthy  of  notice,  and  too  much  misconceived  not  to  demand 
from  friendship  a  vindication  of  his  nature  and  conduct.  The  great 
Lord  Chesterfield,  as  he  is  generally  styled,  who  carried  good- 
breeding  perhaps  to  an  excess,  was  very  partial  to  Monsey,  and  bore 
with  his  peculiarities  because  he  saw  that,  however  rough  his  manner 
at  times,  it  had  always  a  moral  tendency,  and  its  purpose  to  con- 
demn, to  expose,  and  to  ridicule  vice  and  folly.  Lord  Chief  Justice 
de  Grey,  afterward  Lord  Walsingham,  was  also  distinguished  for 
the  elegance  and  suavity  of  his  manners  in  private  life,  and  he  ad- 
mired and  cultivated  an  intercourse  with  Monsey,  when  he  retired 
from  the  profession  to  which  his  talents,  learning,  and  judicial  con- 
duct did  so  much  honour.  I  was  to  dine  one  day  with  the  doctor  at 
the  governors  table  in  Chelsea  Hospital,  and  soon  after  I  arrived, 
Lord  Walsingham  came  in  his  carriage  to  ask  Monsey  to  accompany 
him  home  to  dinner.  The  doctor,  knowing  that  I  heard  him,  in  his 
usual  blunt  way,  said,  "  I  can't,  my  lord,  for  I  have  a  scoundrel  to 
dine  with  me."  "  Then  bring  your  scoundrel  with  you,"  said  his 
lordship.  The  advanced  age  of  the  doctor,  however,  then  on  the 
verge,  if  not  turned  of  ninety,  and  the  thoughts  of  returning  late  at 
night,  in  the  winter  season,  induced  him  to  decline  the  invitation ; 
and  thus  I  missed  the  only  opportunity  that  ever  was  presented  to 
me  of  enjoying  the  society  of  two  enlightened  individuals,  from  the 
collision  of  whose  talents  and  knowledge  I  might  have  derived  great 
pleasure  and  important  instruction.  Lord  Walsingham  was  the  most 
elegant,  clear,  and  eloquent  forensic  speaker  it  was  ever  my  fortune 


54 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


to  hear.  His  voice  was  musical,  his  temper  mild,  yet  firm,  and  his 
utterance  remarkably  distinct,  without  formality  or  affected  precision. 
In  this  latter  respect  he  strikingly  resembled  Garrick. 

Monsey  and  Garrick  were  for  many  years  upon  terms  of  the  most 
intimate  friendship,  and  Mrs.  Garrick  /was  particularly  gratified 
with  the  blunt  sincerity  of  the  doctor's  manner,  except  upon  one 
occasion. 

The  doctor,  as  he  himself  related,  had  passed  a  few  days  at  Gar- 
rick's  seat  at  Hampton.  On  the  Monday  morning,  Garrick  went  on 
horseback  to  town  to  attend  to  the  business  of  the  theatre.  Monsey 
and  Mrs.  Garrick  were  to  follow  in  the  course  of  the  da^,  and  the 
doctor  was  to  dine  with  them  in  Southampton-street.  When  they 
reached  Turnham  Green,  Monsey  corrected  the  lady  in  the  pro- 
nunciation of  an  English  word  ;  on  which  she  expressed  her  surprise, 
as  she  declared  she  pronounced  the  English  language  so  well  that 
nobody  took  her  for  a  foreigner.  The  doctor  ridiculed  her  preten- 
sions to  such  accuracy,  and  the  dispute  became  so  vehement  on  both 
sides,  that  the  doctor  was  going  to  stop  the  coach,  declaring  that  he 
would  no  longer  sit  with  a  woman  so  vain  and  foolish.  Reflecting, 
however,  that  he  might  be  obliged  to  walk  all  the  way  to  town,  he 
kept  his  seat,  and  neither  spoke  to  the  other  for  the  remainder  of  the 
journey.  The  doctor,  however,  attended  at  dinner-time,  but  took  no 
aiotice  of  Mrs.  Garrick,  nor  she  of  him.  At  length  Garrick  observing 
this  sullen  silence  on  both  sides,  exclaimed,  "  Heydey !  what,  have 
you  two  lovers  fallen  out  1  Sure  something  terrible  must  have  hap- 
pened." The  lady  maintained  a  gloomy  reserve,  and  left  Monsey  to 
tell  the  story. 

After  he  had  related  what  had  occurred,  "  And  so,"  said  Garrick, 
"  you  thought  of  punishing  yourself  for  her  vanity  and  folly,  when 
you  ought  rather  to  have  turned  her  out  of  the  carriage  for  her 
obstinacy  and  ignorance  !  Why,  did  you  never  hear  of  Potty  Brice  V* 
Garrick  then  said,  that  though  he  employed  one  of  the  most  honest 
and  respectable  linen-drapers  in  town,  Mrs.  Garrick  went  into  an  auc- 
tion-room and  bought  a  large  quantity  of  damaged  stuff,  and  that  when 
the  auctioneer  required  her  name,  she  thought  that  she  should  give  that 
of  an  English  gentlewoman,  and  not  of  a  servant,  when  she  intended 
to  say  Betty  Price,  but  instead  of  that  she  pronounced  it  Potty  Brice, 
and  her  own  maid  was  obliged  to  explain  it  correctly.  Monsey, 
however,  whose  spleen  ended  with  a  few  rough  words,  paid  the  lady 
some  rough  compliment,  and  harmony  was  soon  restored.  It  is  an 
old  observation,  that  "  every  thing  begets  its  like,"  and  so  far  as 
relates  to  Monsey's  manner,  it  generated  something  of  the  same  kind 
in  his  ordinary  associates,  for  they  usually  addressed  him  with  the 
same  gross  familiarity  that  characterized  his  own  behaviour.  This 
reciprocal  freedom  always  existed  between  him  and  Garrick. 

Monsey  having  heard  "one  day  that  the  Duke  of  Argyle  and  several 
ladies  of  distinction  were  to  sup  with  Garrick,  reproached  the  latter 
for  not  inviting  him.  "  I  would  have  asked  you,"  said  Garrick,  "  but 
you  are  too  great  a  blackguard."    "  Why,  you  little  scoundrel,"  said 


DR.  WOLCOT  DR.  MONtfEY.  55 

Monsey,  "ask  Lord  Godolphin,  one  of  the  best-bred  men  in  the 
world,  if  I  do  not  behave  as  well  as  the  politest  of  his  visiters." 
"  Well,"  replied  Garrick,  "  if  you'll  promise  to  behave  properly,  you 
shall  come."  Monsey  promised  accordingly,  and  attended.  Garrick, 
however,  gave  the  duke  privately  an  intimation  of  Monsey's  charac- 
ter. All  went  on  well  till  Mrs.  Garrick  began  to  help  her  noble 
guests,  in  the  intervals  of  which  attention  Monsey  had  several  times 
presented  his  plate  to  her,  but  she  was  so  occupied  in  showing 
her  deference  to  the  grandeur  of  the  company,  that  she  took  no 
notice  of  him.  At  length,  after  presenting  and  withdrawing  his 
plate,  as  fother  parties  engaged  her  attention,  he  could  restrain 

himself  no  longer,  and  exclaimed,  "  Will  you  help  me,  you  b  ,  or 

not?"  Garrick  fejl  back  in  his  chair  with  laughter ;  the  duke,  though 
somewhat  prepared  for  the  oddity  of  Monsey's  character,  was  struck 
with  surprise,  and  all  was  consternation  with  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany. Monsey,  not  the  least  abashed  at  the  confusion  which  he  had 
excited,  gave  way  to  his  humour,  related  some  whimsical  anecdotes, 
and  rendered  the  remainder  of  the  evening  a  scene  of  good-humour 
and  merriment. 

I  remember  a  similar  instance  when  I  dined  with  Mrs.  Billington 
and  her  first  husband  at  Brompton.  Dr.  Wolcot,  the  well-known 
Peter  Pindar,  was  of  the  party.  The  doctor,  who  appeared  to  be 
hungry,  eyed  one  dish  with  particular  eagerness.  Mr.  Billington,  who 
was  an  intelligent  and  agreeable  man,  with  a  waggish  disposition,  gave 
me  a  wink,  and  disregarded  Wolcot's  plate,  under  an  appearance  of 
respect  to  other  persons  near  him.  The  doctor's  appetite  could  be 
restrained  no  longer,  and  thrusting  his  fork  into  the  dish,  he  exclaimed, 
"D —  me,  I  will  have  this,"  to  the  surprise  and  amusement  of  all  present, 
among  whom  was  the  celebrated  Irish  orator,  Curran.  After  dinner, 
Curran  and  Wolcot  drew  close  to  each  other  and  entered  into  con- 
versation. Curran  introduced  the  subject  of  painting,  and  expressed 
his  peculiar  notions  and  views.  After  hearing  him  for  some  time,  the 
doctor  suddenly  arose  and  left  the  room.  As  I  came  with  him,  I  fol- 
lowed him  to  know  if  he  was  taken  ill,  or  wished  then  to  return  to 
town.  I  found  he  was  disgusted  with  the  conversation  of  Curran, 
exclaiming,  "  Talk  of  Dr.  Numpscull,  he  would  cut  into  a  dozen  such 
fellows  as  Curran."  A  Dr.  Holton,  who  conducted  "  The  Herald" 
newspaper  at  that  time,  was  nicknamed  Dr.  Numpscull,  because  he 
had  placed  the  poet's  corner  in  the  middle  of  the  paper. 

A  difference  afterward  took  place  between  Dr.  Wolcot  and  me, 
which  lasted  some  years,  but  hearing,  during  the  interval,  from  my 
friend  Mr.  Northcote,  that  he  had  dined  the  day  before  at  Mr.  God- 
win's, in  company  with  Curran  and  Dr.  Wolcot,  I  expressed  a  desire 
to  know  if  the  doctor  had  formed  a  more  favourable  opinion  of  the 
Irish  wit  than  at  the  last  interview.  "  That  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Mr. 
Northcote,  "  for  we  walked  home  together."  Speaking  of  Curran, 
said  he, "  Dr.  Wolcot  expressed  great  disgust  at  his  presuming  frivolity, 
and  declared  he  would  not  insult  his  magpie  by  offering  her  that  fel- 
low's brains  for  a  dinner." 


56 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


I  have  been  always  puzzled  by  the  contradictory  opinions  of  Dr. 
Wolcot  and  my  friend  Joseph  Richardson,  on  the  powers  of  Mr.  Cur- 
ran.  I  have  stated  the  doctor's,  but  on  asking  Richardson  his,  he  said 
that  Curran  was  certainly  a  man  of  great  genius.  From  what  I  heard 
from  Curran  myself,  I  confess  I  formed  no  favourable  opinion  of  him, 
perhaps  for  want  of  compasses  to  measure  his  character  at  the  meeting 
already  mentioned. 

Before  dinner,  Mrs.  Billington,  addressing  Curran,  said,  "  I  hear  you 
arc  to  be  lord-chancellor  for  Ireland,  and  then  I  hope  you  will  pro- 
cure some  appointment  for  me."  Curran,  instead  of  modestly  ex- 
pressing his  cloubt  if  ever  he  should  be  raised  to  such  a  situation, 
simply  said  that  he  should  always  be  happy  to  testify  his  respect  for 
her.  After  dinner,  he  evidently  endeavoured  to  impress  Dr.  Wolcot 
with  a  high  opinion  of  his  conversational  talents.  I  heard  him  speak 
in  precise  terms  of  "  a  concatenated  series  of  consecutive  arguments," 
and  other  phrases  which  appeared  to  me  redundant  and  verbose. 
Yet  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  good  sense  of  the  Irish  people 
would  have  raised  Mr.  Curran  into  unmerited  distinction ;  and  the 
excellent  biographical  tribute  which  the  son  has  paid  to  the  memory 
of  his  father,  appears  to  justify  the  national  estimation. 

It  is  now  full  time  for  me  to  return  to  Dr.  Monsey.  Garrick  gave 
the  following  account  of  the  origin  of  his  acquaintance  with  him.  He 
said  that  being  in  the  court  at  the  Old  Bailey,  he  heard  a  gentleman 
request  a  man  who  stood  before  him  to  move  a  little  on  one  side,  that 
he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  bench ;  the  man,  however, 
a  stout  fellow,  obstinately  retained  his  station.  The  gentleman  re- 
peated his  request,  but  the  fellow  continued  inflexible.  At  length 
the  gentleman,  in  a  tone  somewhat  louder  than  a  whisper,  said,  "  If  I 
were  not  a  coward,  I  would  give  you  a  blow  even  in  the  court."  The 
oddity  of  the  declaration  induced  Garrick  to  think  he  must  be  a  sin- 
gular character,  and  he  felt  a  wish  to  be  acquainted  with  him,  which 
desire  increased  when  he  knew  that  the  gentleman  was  Dr.  Monsey, 
of  whom  he  had  often  heard  but  never  seen.*  Garrick  therefore  con- 
trived to  get  introduced  to  the  doctor,  and  for  many  years  a  close  in- 
timacy subsisted  between  them. 

It  may  be  asked,  as  Dr.  Johnson  says  of  Addison  and  Steele,  what 
could  divide  such  friends  ?  "  but,"  as  he  adds, "  among  the  uncertainties 
of  the  human  state,  we  are  doomed  to  number  the  instability  of  friend- 
ship." Nor  is  the  reference  inapplicable,  for  Garrick  and  Monsey 
possessed  such  intellectual  powers  as  might  have  qualified  them  for  an 
intimacy  with  the  former  two  distinguished  characters.  The  cause 
of  the  separation,  as  I  heard  Monsey  state,  was  as  follows  : — A  feud 
arose  in  the  theatre,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  memorable  Chinese 
Festival,  which  Garrick  in  vain  came  forward  to  appease,  and  was 
grossly  insulted.  The  circumstance  having  been  mentioned  on  the 
following  morning  to  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath,  when  Monsey  and  a  well- 

*  This  circumstance  is  differently  stated  in  a  memoir  of  the  doctor  in  the  Euro- 
pean  Magazine  of  1789,  as  having  happened  at  the  theatre,  but  I  recollect  Monsey'- 
account  precisely. 


DR.  MONSEY  AND  WARBURTON. 


57 


known  literary  character  were  present,  the  earl  expressed  his  surprise 
that  Garrick,  who  had  fame  enough  as  well  as  property,  did  not,  after 
such  an  outrage,  indignantly  retire  from  public  life.  "  Why,  my  lord," 
said  Monsey,  "  Garrick  knows  that  a  guinea  has  cross  on  one  side  and 
pile  on  the  other."  Monsey  positively  assured  me  that  this  was  all  he 
uttered  on  the  occasion.  The  literary  man,  however,  who  probably 
had  reasons  for  courting  Garrick,  reported  the  conversation  to  him, 
with  doubtless  some  exaggeration  of  what  Monsey  had  said. 

A  few  days  after  Monsey  received  an  anonymous  letter,  with  the 
words  of  Horace,  "Hie  Niger  est,  hunc  tu  Romane  caveto,"  in  which 
the  writer,  in  a  disguised  hand  and  in  very  severe  terms,  reprobated 
those  who  abused  a  friend  in  his  absence.  Monsey  having  no  suspi- 
cion who  was  the  author,  in  a  few  days  called  as  usual  upon  Garrick, 
but  found  the  husband  and  wife  so  cold  and  repulsive  in  their  recep- 
tion, that  he  took  a  hasty  departure.  On  his  way  home  it  struck  him 
that  Garrick  had  written  the  letter,  and  on  examining  it  he  saw  evident 
marks  through  the  disguise  of  Garrick's  hand.  Monsey  called  the  next 
day  on  Lord  Bath,  and  mentioned  how  he  had  been  received  by  the 
Garricks,  when  his  lordship  agreed  in  the  suspicion  that  Garrick  wrote 
the  letter,  at  the  same  time  declaring  that  if  he  could  discover  the  ma- 
lignant tale-bearer,  he  should  never  enter  his  doors  again.  The  parties 
were  never  reconciled,  and  the  separation  must  have  been  a  great 
loss  to  both,  as  their  humours  were  similar,  and  they  afforded  much 
amusement  to  each  other. 

Monsey  had  a  great  contempt  for  Warburton,  whose  learning  he 
distrusted,  and  whose  abilities  he  despised.  He  told  me  that  he  once 
dined  at  Garrick's  with  Warburton  and  Dr.  Brown,  the  author  of  "An 
Estimate  on  the  Manners  of  the  Times,"  of  "  An  Essay  on  the  Char- 
acteristics of  Shaftesbury,"  and  of  the  tragedy  of"  Barbarossa."  He 
also  wrote  a  poem  on  the  death  of  Pope,  forming  a  sort  of  parody  on 
"  The  Essay  on  Man,"  which  Warburton  introduced  into  his  edition  of 
Pope's  works.  Brown  was  a  more  obsequious  parasite  to  Warburton 
than  even  Bishop  Hurd  was  reported  to  have  been.  After  the  dinner, 
and  during  the  wine,  Garrick  said,  partly  in  earnest  and  partly  in  jest, 
"  Now,  Monsey,  don't  indulge  in  your  usual  freedom,  but  let  us  be  a 
little  serious."  "  Oh  !"  said  Brown,  u  you  may  be  sure  that  Monsey 
will  restrain  his  strange  humour  before  Dr.  Warburton,  as  he  is  afraid 
of  him."  Monsey  said  that  he  waited  a  moment  or  two,  to  hear 
whether  Warburton  would  say  any  thing  in  rebuke  to  Brown,  and  ask 
wThy  Dr.  Monsey  should  be  afraid  of  him ;  but  as  Warburton  maintained' 
a  kind  of  proud  silence,  Monsey  said,  "  No,  sir,  I  am  neither  afraid  of 
Dr.  Warburton  nor  of  his  Jack-pudding."  This  sally  produced  a 
solemn  pause,  to  the  confusion  of  Garrick,  who  saw  it  Was  hopeless  to 
restore  good-humour,  and  the  party  soon  broke  up. 

As  I  do  not  profess  to  write  with  any  regard  to  regular  order,  but 
relate  my  recollections  when  they  occur  to  me,  I  may  be  permitted 
to  say  a  few  wrords  more  of  Warburton,  who  was  once  addressed  in 
a  pamphlet,  "  To  the  most  impudent  man  alive,"  and  to  whom  proud 
and  insolent  might  have  been  very  properly  added.    Quin  was  in  the 


58 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE* 


habit  of  meeting  Warburton  at  Mr.  Allen's,  at  Prior  Park,  near  Bath. 
Quin  was  a  discerning  man,  and  above  all  sycophantic  arts.  He  had 
often  observed  the  interested  servility  of  Warburton  towards  Mr. 
Allen.  Warburton  was  mortified  at  the  superior  powers  of  conver- 
sation which  Quin  possessed,  but  was  afraid  of  encountering  his  tal- 
ents for  prompt  repartee.  On  one  occasion,  after  a  conversation  on 
the  subject  of  the  martyrdom  of  Charles  the  First,  for  the  justice  of 
which  Quin  contended,  Warburton  asked  him  "  by  what  law  the  king 
was  condemned."  Quin,  with  his  usual  energy,  exclaimed,  "  By  all 
the  law  which  he  had  left  in  the  land  !"  an  answer  which  was  more 
ingenious  than  founded  in  truth  and  reason,  but  which,  however,  at 
once  put  an  end  to  the  controversy. 

On  another  occasion,  when  Warburton  with  grave  subtlety  endeav- 
oured to  degrade  Quin  from  the  social  and  equal  companion  to  the 
player,  he  professed  his  desire  to  hear  Mr.  Quin  recite  something  from 
the  drama,  as  he  had  not  an  opportunity  of  hearing  him  on  the  stage. 
Quin  delivered  the  speech  from  Otway's  "  Pierre,"  in  which  there  is 
the  following  passage : — 

Honest  men 

Are  the  soft,  easy  cushions  on  which  knaves 
Repose  and  fatten, 

alternately  looking  at  Allen  and  Warburton  in  so  marked  a  manner 
that  the  reference  was  understood  by  all  the  company,  and  effectually 
prevented  any  subsequent  attacks  from  the  divine  on  the  actor. 

An  evident  proof  of  Warburton's  pride  was  related  to  me  by  Dr. 
Wolcot.  The  doctor  knew  a  cousin  of  Mr.  Allen,  a  chattering  old 
woman  ;  she  told  Wolcot  that  people  in  general  were  much  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  Dr.  Warburton  was  a  proud  man,  for  she  had  often 
met  him  at  her  cousin  Allen's  in  the  company  of  lords  and  bishops  and 
other  high  people,  and  he  paid  more  attention  to  her,  and  talked  more 
with  her  than  with  any  of  the  great  folks  who  were  present. 

This  fact  fully  illustrates  Warburton's  character,  as  it  shows  that  he 
manifested  his  indifference,  if  not  contempt,  of  the  higher  visiters  by 
his  familiarity  with  an  ignorant  woman,  from  whom  he  could  receive 
no  entertainment,  except  what  his  vanity  derived  from  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  superiority.  It  has  always  been  wonderful  to  me 
that  Warburton  should  have  acquired  so  high  a  reputation.  His  inso- 
lence, vanity,  and  ridiculous  ambition  of  superior  penetration,  have  been 
ably  exposed  by  the  severe  criticism  on  his  "  Comments  on  Shak- 
speare's  text,"  by  Mr.  Heath,  in  his  revisal  of  that  text,  and  by  the 
caustic  humour  of  Mr.  Edwards  on  the  same  subject.*  Beautiful  as 
the  "  Essay  on  Man"  is  as  a  poem,  it  is  an  inconsistent  jumble  of  reli- 
gion and  philosophy.  There  are  many  passages  in  favour  of  fatalism 
which  Warburton  has  attempted  to  reconcile  and  defend  as  support- 
ing the  Christian  faith  and  doctrines,  but  with  refining  sophistry,  if 

*  The  arrogance  of  Warburton  is  well  described  in  a  work  called  "  The  Revery, 
or  a  Flight  to  the  Paradise  of  Fools,"  mentioned  before,  written  by  the  author  of"  The 
Adventures  of  a  Guinea,"  of  whom  more  hereafter. 


WARBURTON  MR.  BOS  WELL,  JR. 


59 


not  with  interested  dissimulation  and  pitiable  prejudice.  How  Pope 
could  be  content  with  such  a  vindication  of  his  poem  is  surprising,  a& 
the  frequent  references  to  fatalism  in  Warburton's  defence  must  have 
convinced  him  that  his  poem  was  liable  in  that  respect  to  all  the  ob- 
jections which  had  been  urged  against  it.  It  was  generally  reported 
that  the  passage  in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Hypocrite,"  where  Maw  worm, 
speaking  of  his  wife  when  addressing  Cantwell,  says,  "  Between  you 
and  me,  doctor,  Molly  is  breeding  again,"  was  a  copy  of  what  War- 
burton  had  said  to  a  friendly  clergyman,  with  whose  wife  he  was  sup- 
posed to  be  upon  too  intimate  a  footing. 

There  is  a  curious  letter  of  Warburton's,  written  to  Concanen,  one 
of  Pope's  enemies,  degrading  the  genius  of  the  poet,  before  he  had 
discovered  the  importance  which  he  might  derive  from  an  alliance 
with  him.  This  letter  Mr.  Malone  has  copied  and  introduced  at  the 
end  of  the  play  of  "  Julius  Caesar,"  in  his  edition  of  the  works  of  Shak- 
speare.  I  asked  the  late  James  Boswell,  the  son  of  Johnson's  biog- 
rapher, what  had  become  of  the  original  of  that  letter,  and  he  told  me 
that  he  could  not  find  it  among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Malone,  to  whom 
he  was  executor. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  breaking  in  upon  the  progress  of  my  narra- 
tive, as  I  have  often  done,  in  order  to  pay  a  tribute  to  Mr.  Boswell,  jr. 
I  have  frequently  dined  with  him  at  a  Mr.  Nealson's,  a  stock-broker  to 
the  banking-houses  of  Coutts  and  Snow,  and  also  at  Mr.  John  Kern- 
ble's  and  Dr.  George  Pearson's,  and  have  always  found  him  to  be  a  man 
of  learning,  wit,  and  humour,  and  one  of  the  most  honourable  charac- 
ters that  I  ever  knew.  He  died  after  a  very  few  days'  illness,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  to  the  regret  of  all  his  friends.  He  was  an  intimate  friend 
of  the  celebrated  General  Paoli,  who,  I  believe,  appointed  him  one  of 
his  executors.  I  was  very  intimate  with  his  father,  the  biographer  of 
Johnson,  and  remember  dining  with  him  at  Guildhall,  when  the  elder 
Alderman  Boydell  gave  his  grand  civic  festival  on  being  raised  to  the 
mayoralty.  Mr.  Pitt  honoured  the  table  on  that  occasion  with  his 
presence,  and  when  the  company  removed  to  a  room  appropriated  to 
sociality,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  sitting  near  the  great  minister  and  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds.  In  a  short  time  Mr.  Boswell  contrived  to  be  asked 
to  favour  the  company  with  a  song.  He  declared  his  readiness  to 
comply,  but  first  delivered  a  short  preface,  in  which  he  observed  that 
it  had  been  his  good  fortune  to  be  introduced  to  several  of  the  poten- 
tates, and  most  of  the  great  characters  of  Europe,  but  with  all  his  en- 
deavours he  had  never  been  successful  in  obtaining  an  introduction 
to  a  gentleman  who  was  an  honour  to  his  country,  and  w  hose  talents 
he  held  in  the  highest  esteem  and  admiration. 

It  was  evident  to  all  the  company  that  M§.  Boswell  alluded  to  Mr, 
Pitt,  who  sat  with  all  the  dignified  silence  ot  a  marble  statue,  though 
indeed  in  such  a  situation  he  could  not  but  take  the  reference  to  him- 
self. Mr.  Boswell  then  sang  a\  song  of  his  own  composition,  which 
was  a  parody  on  Dibdin's  "  Sweet  little  Cherub,"  under  the  title  of 
"  A  grocer  of  London,"  which  rendered  the  reference  to  Mr.  Pitt 
too  evident  to  be  mistaken,  as  the  great  minister  was  then  a  member 


60 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


of  the  Grocers'  Company.  This  song  Mr.  Boswell,  partly  volunteer- 
ing and  partly  pressed  by  the  company,  sang  at  least  six  times,  inso- 
much that  Mr.  Pitt  was  obliged  to  relax  from  his  gravity,  and  join  in 
the  general  laugh  at  the  oddity  of  Mr.  Boswell's  character.  Bos- 
well and  I  came  away  together,  both  in  so  convivial  a  mood  that  we 
roared  out  all  the  way  "  The  grocer  of  London,"  till  we  reached 
Hatton  Garden,  where  I  then  resided,  to  the  annoyance  of  many 
watchmen  whom  we  roused  from  their  peaceful  slumbers,  without 
however  being  taken  into  custody  for  disturbing  their  repose.  In 
the  course  of  the  evening  Mr.  Boswell  and  I  happened  to  differ 
about  the  meaning  of  a  word.  I  met  him  the  next  day  about  twelve 
o'clock  near  St.  Dunstan's  church,  as  fresh  as  a  rose.  He  recollected 
our  dispute,  and  took  me  into  a  bookseller's  shop  to  refer  to  John- 
son's Dictionary,  but  which  of  us  was  right  I  cannot  now  recollect. 

I  introduced  Dr.  Wolcot  to  Dr.  Monsey  a  few  months  before  the 
death  of  the  latter,  of  whom  Wolcot  made  an  admirable  likeness, 
which  Monsey  left  to  me,  and  which  I  presented  to  Mr.  Soane,  the 
architect,  in  return  for  much  kindness  on  his  part.  Wolcot  and  Mon- 
sey did  not  harmonize,  though  they  were  both  men  of  learning,  both 
well  acquainted  with  the  world,  and  similar  in  their  opinions  of  it. 
Monsey  had  the  highest  admiration  of  Pope,  and  Wolcot,  though  also 
a  warm  admirer  of  the  poet,  was  too  much  inclined  to  criticise  some 
of  the  passages  which  Monsey  quoted,  who  could  not  bear  to  have 
opinions  long  rooted  in  his  mind  attacked  with  unexpected  severity. 
Therefore,  when  the  portrait  was  finished,  Monsey  desired  that  I 
would  bring  Wolcot  no  more.  Dr.  Monsey  had  the  utmost  con- 
tempt for  funeral  ceremonies,  and  exacted  a  promise  from  his  daughter 
that  she  would  not  interfere  with  the  arrangement  which  he  had  made 
with  Mr.  Thompson  Forster,  the  surgeon,  for  the  disposal  of  his  body, 
conceiving  that  whenever  it  was  dissected  by  that  gentleman,  some- 
thing might  occur  for  the  illustration  and  advancement  of  anatomy. 
"  What  can  it  signify  to  me,"  said  he,  "  whether  my  carcass  is  cut  up 
by  the  knife  of  a  surgeon,  or  the  tooth  of  a  worm  ?"  He  had  a  large 
box  in  his  chambers  at  Chelsea,  full  of  air-holes,  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  iiis  body  to  Mr.  Forster  in  case  he  should  be  in  a  trance 
when  supposed  to  be  dead.  It  was  provided  with  poles  like  a  sedan- 
chair.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  that  he  ,  should  die,  as  his  father 
did,  without  any  real  or  nominal  complaint,  and  go  out  like  the  snuff 
of  a  candle ;  generally  adding,  "  I  wish  I  were  dead,  but,  like  all  fools 
and  all  wits,  I  am  afraid  to  die."  He  exacted  another  promise  from 
his  daughter,  importing  that  after  his  death  she  should  not  live  within 
a  certain  distance  of  London,  conceiving  that  she  might  be  tempted 
to  launch  into  expense  beyond  her  income. 

His  daughter  had  been  married  to  Mr.  Alexander,  a  wholesale 
linen  draper  in  Cateaton-street,  and,  I  believe,  great  uncle  to  the 
present  Lord  Caledon.  I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  one  of  their 
relations,  Mr.  Henry  Alexander,  who  was  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  afterward  secretary  to  Lord  Caledon,  during  his  go- 
vernment at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.    Harry  Alexander,  as  he  was 


MRS.  MONTAGUE — DR.  MONSEY. 


generally  styled,  was  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.  He  had  a  great 
command  of  words,  but  never  affected  oratory,  and  his  voice  being 
unequal,  he  was  not  attended  to  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  as  his  un- 
derstanding was  sound,  and  his  matter  always  solid.  The  inequality 
of  his  tones  in  parliament  procured  him,  as  I  have  heard,  the  name 
of  "  Bubble  and  Squeak."  He  was,  however,  an  excellent  man,  and 
I  revere  his  memory.  I  have  some  pride  in  recollecting,  that  on  ac- 
count of  the  good  terms  in  which  I  lived  with  politicians  whom  I 
knew  on  both  sides,  he  gave  me  the  name  of  "  Atticus,"  of  which, 
however  undeserving,  I  am  proud  as  the  flattering  designation  of  a 
friend.  It  is  certain  that  while  I  was  kindly  received  by  some  dis- 
tinguished members  of  the  Pitt  party,  I  was  upon  the  most  intimate 
footing  with  Sheridan,  Richardson,  and  their  political  associates. 

Dr.  Monsey  and  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Montague  lived  long  in  inti- 
mate friendship,  and  kept  up  a  sort  of  ludicrous  gallantry  with  each 
other.  I  remember  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her  at  Dr. 
Monsey's,  and  of  handing  her  to  her  carriage.  I  said,  as  we  went 
down  stairs,  "  Are  you  not  afraid,  madam,  of  being  known  to  visit  a 
gentleman  in  his  chambers  V  "  Why,  yes,"  said  she,  "  considering 
my  youth  and  beauty,  and  the  youth  of  the  gallant.  I  hope  the 
meeting  will  not  get  into  The  Morning  Post." 

The  published  letters  of  this  lady  are  admirable,  and  her  Essay  on 
Shakspeare  is  a  valuable  vindication  of  our  great  bard  from  the 
strictures  of  Voltaire.  It  was  supposed  that  at  an  early  period  of 
her  life  she  had  been  attached  to  the  venerable  Lord  Lyttelton,  be- 
yond the  limits  of  platonism ;  but  Monsey,  who  would  not  credit 
any  imputation  upon  her  moral  character,  said  that,  if  such  a  suppo- 
sition could  possibly  have  any  foundation,  it  rather  applied  to  Lord 
Bath,  with  whom  and  his  lady  she  made  a  tour  in  Germany.  There 
was  something  remarkably  shrewd  and  penetrating  in  her  eyes,  tend- 
ing to  disconcert  those  towards  whom  they  were  particularly  di- 
rected. Dr.  Monsey  gave  me  two  of  her  letters,  of  which  1  per- 
mitted copies  to  be  taken  for  a  periodical  literary  vehicle,  no  lorjger 
in  existence,  and  which  I  may  introduce  in  the  present  work. 

Mrs.  Montague,  in  the  early  part  of  her  life,  was  so  fond  of  having 
various  colours  in  her  attire,  that  Lord  Chesterfield  always  called  her 
Iris.  Her  letters  are  throughout  excellent,  and  I  understand  were 
written  without  any  hesitation.  In  the  "  Dialogues  of  the  Dead," 
Written  by  Lord  Lyttelton,  there  are  two  written  by  Mrs.  Montague, 
which,  in  all  respects,  are  much  superior  to  those  of  his  lordship. 
The  unfavourable  manner  in  wrhich  Dr.  Johnson  mentions  Lord  Lyt- 
telton, in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Poets,"  induced  her  to  relinquish  all  in- 
tercourse with  him.  She  was  indebted  for  some  part  of  her  educa- 
tion to  the  celebrated  Dr.  Conyers  Middleton,  and  it  is  said,  that 
such  was  the  precocity  of  her  powers,  that  she  had  copied  the  whole 
of  "  The  Spectator"  before  she  was  eight  years  of  age  ;  but  whatever 
might  have  been  the  maturity  of  her  mind  at  that  early  age,  it  is 
tiardly  possible  to  give  credit  to  the  report. 

Mentioning  Voltaire,  I  may  as  well  relate  in  this  place  a  circum- 


«2 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


stance  communicated  to  me  by  Monsey,  upon  what  he  deemed  good 
authority,  that  Voltaire  being  invited  to  dine  with  a  lady  of  quality  while 
he  was  in  London,  to  meet  some  persons  of  distinction,  waited  upon  the 
lady  an  hour  or  two  earlier  than  the  time  appointed.  The  lady 
apologized  for  the  necessity  of  leaving  him,  as  she  had  visits  to  pay, 
but  begged  he  would  amuse  himself  with  the  books  in  the  room, 
promising  to  return  very  soon.  After  the  party  broke  up,  having  oc- 
casion to  refer  to  her  escritoir,  she  evidently  found  that  it  had  been 
opened  in  her  absence,  and  though  nothing  had  been  taken  away,  her 
papers  were  obviously  not  in  the  same  order  as  when  she  left  them. 
She  inquired  anxiously  who  had  been  in  the  room,  and  was  assured 
nobody  but  Voltaire,  who  had  remained  there  till  she  returned  home. 
As  Voltaire  was  destitute  of  all  religious  principles,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  he  was  equally  devoid  of  all  moral  delicacy.  A  severe  account 
of  his  conduct  towards  the  great  king  of  Prussia,  while  he  wras  at  the 
court  of  that  monarch,  is  given  in  "  The  Reverie,"  a  wTork  before  re- 
ferred to. 

Voltaire  once  dined  in  company  with  Pope,  Lord  Bolingbroke,  and 
several  of  the  most  distinguished  characters  in  London,  and  said  it 
was  "  the  proudest  day  he  had  ever  enjoyed." 

Conyers  Middleton,  whose  learning  and  talents  it  would  be  pre- 
sumptuous in  me  to  praise,  had  a  high  opinion  of  the  mental  powers 
of  old  Chubb,  who  was  in  the  humble  condition  of  a  tallow-chandler, 
at  Salisbury,  and  says  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  I  mean  soon  to  spend  a 
philosophical  day  with  Chubb  at  Salisbury."  Chubb  w7as  a  very 
shrewd  and  well-informed  man,  though  unacquainted  with  classical 
literature.  He  published  many  tracts  on  religious  subjects.  He  was 
a  pious  Unitarian,  and  in  one  of  his  works  whimsically,  but  profanely, 
terms  the  Trinity,  "  A  Triangular  Deity."  I  once  dined  with  an  in- 
telligent lady,  a  native  and  constant  resident  of  Salisbury,  who  de- 
clared that  she  had  never  heard  of  Chubb's  name  till  I  mentioned  it, 
and  then  professed  an  earnest  desire  to  read  the  wrorks  of  her  old 
countryman. 

Dr.  Monsey,  I  regret  to  say,  was  equally  free  in  his  opinions  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  and  once  riding  with  a  bishop  in  Hyde-Park, 
the  latter  declined  noticing  a  person  who  bowed  to  him,  telling  the 
doctor  his  reason — that  the  person  who  had  passed  believed  only  in 
"  One  God."  "  Why  "  said  Monsey,  "  I  know  many  fools  who  be- 
lieve there  are  three."  The  bishop  immediately  galloped  off, 
thinking  the  devil  was  beside  him.  But  whatever  might  be  the 
opinions  of  the  doctor  on  religious  subjects,  it  is  certain  that  he  admit- 
ted the  existence  of  a  Divine  Agent,  though  his  language  was  some- 
times whimsical  on  this  subject. 


MR.  HUGH  KELLY.  63 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mr.  Hugh  Kelly.  This  gentleman  was  one  of  my  father's  friends, 
whom  I  knew  in  early  life.  He  took  notice  of  me  in  my  youth,  and 
allowed  me  the  use  of  his  library.  He  lived  then  in  Knightrider- 
street,  Doctors  Commons,  in  a  house  that  belonged  to  his  friend  and 
patron,  Sir  Robert  Ladbroke. 

Mr.  Kelly's  history  is  rather  curious.  The  earliest  accounts  of  him 
represent  him  a  pot-boy  at  a  public-house  in  Dublin.  This  house 
was  frequented  by  the  inferior  actors.  In  this  humble  situation  he 
displayed  literary  talents,  and  having  gained  access  to  one  of  the 
newspapers,  he  contrived  to  obtain  orders  for  admission  into  the 
theatre  from  those  inferior  actors,  by  paying  frequent  tributes  to  their 
merit  in  a  public  print.  Struck  with  his  talents,  he  was  rescued 
from  this  degrading  situation,  and  bound  apprentice  to  a  staymaker, 
with  whom  he  served  his  time  with  diligence  and  fidelity.  As  soon, 
however,  as  he  was  released  from  his  indentures,  having  increased 
his  literary  reputation  during  his  apprenticeship,  and  feeling  an  ambi- 
tion above  the  station  of  a  staymaker,  he  determined  to  try  his  for- 
tune in  London,  and  soon  procured  a  connexion  among  the  publishers 
of  magazines  and  daily  papers.  At  length  he  was  appointed  editor 
of  "  The  Public  Ledger,"  a  prominent  journal  at  that  period,  and  he 
became  well  known  as  a  political  writer  in  favour  of  government. 
A  pension  of  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  was  allowed  him  by  the 
minister  of  that  period,  which  he  retained  till  his  death,  as  he  had 
been  the  victim  of  popular  fury  in  his  character  of  a  dramatic  author ; 
and  his  widow  was  permitted  to  enjoy  a  moiety  of  this  pension  till 
her  death,  which  happened  in  1826.    Mr.  Kelly  died  in  1777. 

Reflecting  on  the  uncertainty  of  permanent  support  arising  from 
magazines  and  newspapers,  Mr.  Kelly  had  turned  his  attention  to  the 
law,  and  was  in  due  time  called  to  the  bar.  Having  a  retentive 
memory,  and  a  promptitude  of  expression,  he  soon  began  to  rise  in 
reputation  as  a  lawyer,  and  would  probably  have  acquired  a  respect- 
able independence  if  he  had  lived,  but  he  died  in  his  thirty-eighth 
year,  of  an  abscess  in  his  side. 

It  seemed  to  be  Mr.  Kelly's  aim,  both  in  conversation  and  in  his 
writings,  to  use  fine  words,  apparently,  if  possible,  to  obliterate  ail 
traces  of  the  meanness  of  his  origin,  and  of  his  early  employments. 
Soon  after  he  was  called  to  the  bar  he  turned  his  attention  to  the 
drama,  and  produced  his  comedy  entitled  "  False  Delicacy,"  whichy 
from  the  novelty  of  its  characters  and  the  refinement  of  its  senti* 
ments,  but  particularly  from  the  admirable  manner  in  which  it  was 
represented,  made  a  very  favourable  impression  on  the  public.  He 
had,  however,  one  great  difficulty  to  encounter  before  the  manage^ 
Mr.  Garrick,  could  venture  to  bring  the  play  forward. 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Kelly  had  written  a  poem,  entitled  "  Thespis,'7  in  which  he 
criticised  the  chief  theatrical  performers  of  that  time,  in  the  manner 
of  Churchill's  "  Rosciad,"  but  with  an  inferiority  of  talent  which  ad- 
mits of  no  comparison.  This  work  appeared  soon  after  Mr.  Barry 
returned  from  Ireland,  and  brought  with  him  Mrs.  Dancer,  whom  he 
afterward  married.  She  was  an  excellent  actress  both  in  tragedy 
and  comedy.  Her  Rosalind  was,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  most 
perfect  performances  I.  ever  attended.  She  happened  to  be  very 
near-sighted,  and  Kelly,  in  his  "  Thespis,"  when  mentioning  Barry, 
alluding  to  Mrs.  Dancer,  said  that  he  had  "  thrust  his  moon-eyed 
idiot  on  the  town."  There  was  a  severity  and  vulgarity  in  this  cen- 
sure quite  inconsistent  with  the  character  of  Mr.  Kelly,  and  his 
strictures  on  other  performers  were  not  more  gentle,  so  that  it  re- 
quired all  the  suavity  of  his  own  manners,  and  even  all  the  zeal  of  his 
friend  Mr.  Garrick,  to  effect  a  reconciliation. 

As  Mr.  Kelly  had  allotted  a  principal  character  to  Mrs.  Dancer  in 
his  play,  it  was  natural  to  suppose  that  she  would  revolt  with  indig- 
nation from  a  proposal  to  take  any  part  in  support  of  it.  The  lady, 
however,  though  at  first  repulsive  and  hostile,  proved  in  the  end  for- 
giving and  good-humoured.  She  supported  the  part  assigned  to  her 
with  admirable  spirit,  and  also  condescended  to  speak  a  long  and 
humorous  epilogue  written  by  Mr.  Garrick.  Her  admirable  mimicry 
of  the  Scotch  and  Irish  characters  added  much  to  the  attraction  and 
success  of  the  comedy. 

In  this  play,  to  keep  aloof  from  the  familiar  apellations  of  ordinary 
life,  and  perhaps  to  throw  a  farther  veil  over  his  original  condition, 
two  of  the  ladies  were  named  Hortensia  and  Theodora,  and  the  males 
are  chiefly  men  of  rank  and  title.  In  his  subsequent  comedy  of  "  A 
School  for  Wives,"  when  a  challenge  is  sent  from  one  character  to 
another,  it  is  addressed  "  To  Craggs  Belville,  Esq." — Craggs  having 
been  the  name  of  a  gentleman  formerly  high  in  office,  and  esteemed 
by  Pope  and  Addison ;  and  from  what  I  recollect  of  Mr.  Kelly,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  his  choice  of  fine  names  arose  from  the  motive 
which  I  have  assigned. 

Mr.  Kelly,  as  I  have  said,  was  perhaps  too  lofty,  pompous,  and 
flowery  in  his  language,  but  good-natured,  affable,  and  gentlemanly  in 
his  deportment,  even  to  an  excess  of  elaborate  courtesy.  An  unlucky 
instance  of  his  loftiness  of  language  occurred,  as  well  as  I  can  recol- 
lect, on  the  trial  of  the  notorious  Barrington,  who  had  picked  a  lady's 
pocket.  The  prosecutrix  seemed  to  be  inclined  to  give  her  evidence 
with  tenderness,  and  the  culprit  might  probably  have  escaped  punish- 
ment, but  unfortunately  Mr.  Kelly  pressed  her  a  little  too  much,  and 
seemed  to  convert  her  lenity  into  self-defence,  when  he  addressed  her 
in  the  following  words :  "  Pray,  madam,  how  could  you,  in  the  im- 
mensity of  the  crowd,  determine  the  identity  of  the  man?" 

This  question  was  wholly  unintelligible  to  the  simple  woman,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  reduce  his  question  into  merely  "  How  do  you 
know  he  was  the  man  V7  "  Because,"  said  she,  "  1  caught  his  hand 
in  my  pocket." 


MR.   HUGH  KELLY. 


65 


As  a  dramatic  writer,  Mr.  Kelly  evidently  improved  in  his  progress. 
His  last  comedy,  "  A  School  for  Wives,"  is  much  more  effective  in 
humour,  and  more  pathetic  in  interest,  than  his  <:  False  Delicacy," 
and  his  "  Word  to  the  Wise."  The  last  piece  fell  a  victim  to  party 
prejudice.  To  this  last  work  he  wrote  a  preface,  which  he  addressed 
to  Mr.  Horne,  since  Home  Tooke,  and  it  is  a  composition  of  con- 
siderable merit,  liberal,  just,  candid  and  argumentative. 

It  was  an  adventurous  undertaking  for  an  unlearned  man  to  attack 
Horne  Tooke,  but  Kelly  had  right  and  justice  on  his  side,  and  Horne 
Tooke  did  not  attempt  an  answer.  As  party  prejudice  was  still 
strong  against  Mr.  Kelly,  he  was  obliged  to  remain  in  ambush  when 
his  "  School  for  Wives"  was  represented ;  and  the  late  Major 
Addington,  afterward  Sir  William,  and  head  of  the  Bow-street 
magistracy,  attended  all  the  rehearsals  at  the  theatre,  appeared  in  the 
character  of  the  author,  and  when  the  play  was  successful,  came  pub- 
licly forward  and  gave  the  credit  to  Mr.  Kelly. 

I  remember,  when  I  called  on  Mr.  Kelly  at  his  house  in  Gough 
Square  to  congratulate  him  on  the  success  of  his  play,  and  found 
Mrs.  Kelly  alone,  she  said,  exultingly,  "  Yes,  we  have  stolen  a  march 
upon  the  patriots." 

Mr.  Kelly  had  the  privilege  of  writing  orders  for  Co  vent  Garden 
theatre  by  the  kindness  of  the  late  Mr.  Harris  :  which  was  the  more 
kind  as  none  of  Mr.  Kelly's  plays  were  originally  produced,  or  I  be- 
lieve ever  represented,  at  that  theatre.  Mr.  Kelly  often  favoured  me 
with  orders,  by  which  means  I  had  frequent  opportunities  of  attend- 
ing dramatic  performances,  and  imbibed  a  great  partiality  for  the 
stage. 

Before  I  take  leave  of  my  father's  old  friend,  and  I  may  add 
my  own  indulgent  patron,  I  will  state  one  fact  which  Mr.  Kelly  men- 
tioned to  my  father.  Lord  Baltimore,  as  is  well  known,  was  tried 
for  having  kept  in  his  house,  as  was  supposed  for  seduction,  a  Miss 
Woodcock,  the  daughter  of  a  tradesman  in  the  city  of  London.  As 
the  public  prints  were  full  of  the  story,  which  made  a  great  noise  in 
the  metropolis,  Lord  Baltimore  wrote  to  Mr.  Kelly,  desiring  that  he 
Would  call  on  him.  Mr.  Kelly  accordingly  waited  immediately  upon 
his  lordship,  who  consulted  him  on  the  propriety  of  publishing  some 
answer  to  the  numerous  attacks  which  were  made  on  him  through  the 
public  press,  proposing  that  Mr.  Kelly  should  take  up  his  cause  and 
publish  something  in  his  favour.  After  entering  into  his  lordship's 
feelings,  Mr.  Kelly  advised  him  to  wait  the  issue  of  the  trial,  and 
then,  if  public  prejudice  remained  still  strong  against  him,  whatever 
the  decision  might  be,  there  would  be  time  enough  to  bring  forward 
a  defence  or  vindication.  His  lordship  heard  him  with  great  atten- 
tion, and  apologizing  for  retiring  a  few  moments,  returned  to  the 
room,  thanked  Mr.  Kelly  for  his  candid,  judicious,  and  disinterested 
advice,  and  attended  him  himself  to  the  street  door.  When  Mr. 
Kelly  reached  home,  he  found  a  very  polite  letter  from  Lord  Balti- 
more, written  during  the  few  moments  that  he  had  been  absent  from 


66 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


the  room,  and  despatched  immediately,  containing  a  bank-note  for 
one  hundred  pounds.  This  delicate  act  of  generosity  was  character- 
istic of  his  lordship. 

On  the  death  of  Mr.  Kelly,  I  was  sent  by  my  father  with  his  sub- 
scription to  the  widow  for  the  publication  of  her  husband's  works. 
After  some  years,  she  married  a  Captain  Davis,  who  never  could 
bear  to  hear  that  her  first  husband  had  been  a  staymaker,  though  his 
own  talents  and  attainments  would  admit  of  no  comparison  with 
those  of  her  former  husband. 

To  my  surprise,  after  more  than  forty  years'  separation,  Mrs.  Kelly 
called  on  me  at  the  Sun  office,  in  the  Strand,  and  invited  me  to  dine 
with  her,  and  talk  over  old  stories.  In  my  early  acquaintance  I  was 
unable  to  appreciate  her  talents,  but  on  the  renewal  I  found  her  a 
very  pleasant  and  intelligent  old  lady,  her  mental  powers  unimpaired, 
and  full  of  anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Garrick,  and  the 
chief  literary  characters  of  her  day. 

Mr.  Kelly  had  two  sons,  both  of  whom  died  in  the  East  Indies,  of 
whom  one  had  settled  a  comfortable  income  on  his  mother.  He  had 
Knarried,  and  left  a  daughter,  who  had  also  married,  and  returned 
with  her  husband  to  England.  She  told  me  that  she  was  not  on 
good  terms  with  them,  as  she  thought  they  had  treated  her  ill,  and 
she  added  that  they  should  not  derive  any  advantage  from  her  death. 
A  few  days  before  that  event,  she  sent  for  me,  but  I  happened  un- 
luckily to  be  out  of  town,  otherwise  perhaps  I  should  have  had  some 
token  of  old  friendship.    She  was  about  eighty-eight  years  of  age. 

The  late  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley,  Bart.  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
being  acquainted  with  this  gentleman  during  at  least  forty  years,  and 
Lad,  therefore,  a  good  opportunity  of  forming  a  due  estimate  of  his 
character.  He  was  constituted,  both  in  mind  and  body,  for  the  army 
or  navy,  rather  than  for  the  church.  In  either  of  these  provinces  of 
national  defence  he  would  have  been  distinguished  for  the  intrepid ity 
of  his  spirit,  as  well  as  for  the  resources  of  a  quick  and  inventive 
mind.  He  had  often,  in  his  younger  days,  displayed  his  poetical 
talents  in  monthly  magazines,  but  never  appeared  conspicuously  be- 
fore the  public  till  he  established  a  daily  paper,  under  the  title  of 
u  The  Morning  Post,"  which,  though  it  has  since  passed  through 
various  other  hands,  is  still  a  respectable  public  journal,  and  probably 
owes  the  continuance  of  its  reputation  to  the  character  which  it 
originally  derived  from  his  talents  and  enterprising  spirit. 

There  was  a  sportive  severity  in  his  writings  which  gave  a  new 
character  to  the  public  press,  as  the  newspapers,  before  "  The  Morn- 
ing Post"  appeared,  generally  were  dull,  heavy,  and  insipid.  It  may 
be  said  that  he  was  too  personal  in  his  strictures  in  general,  and  in 
his  allusions  to  many  characters  of  his  time  ;  but  it  may  be  said  also, 
that  they  were  generally  characters  of  either  sex,  who  had  rendered 
themselves  conspicuous  for  folly,  vice,  or  some  prominent  absurdity, 
by  which  they  became  proper  objects  for  satirical  animadversion. 
Such  effusions  of  his  pen  brought  him  into  hostile  collision  with  some 


SIR  HENRY  BATE  DUDLEY. 


of  the  persons  whom  he  censured,  but  he  always  manfully  supported 
his  character,  and  was  wholly  incapable  of  degrading  concession  or 
compromising  artifice.*    If  his  pen  was  generally  and  chiefly  severe, 

*  Among  the  unlucky  hostile  contests  in  which  Sir  Henry  was  engaged,  was  that 
with  my  old  friend  Joe  Richardson,  which  I  sincerely  believe  he  was  desirous  to 
avoid.  The  origin  of  the  unhappy  dispute  was  as  follows.  Sir  Henry,  then  the 
Reverend  Henry  Bate,  was  thwarted  by  the  other  proprietors  of  "The  Morning 
Post,"  at  a  general  meeting,  among  whom  were  the  well-known  Dr.  Trusler  and 
Alderman  Skinner.  There  were  other  proprietors  of  inferior  talents,  none  of  whom 
were  competent  to  decide  upon  the  measures  which  Mr.  Bate  recommended,  as 
necessary  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  the  paper,  except  Mr,  Richardson,  who  had 
remained  silent.  Irritated  by  their  opposition,  Mr.  Bate  called  them  a  parcel  of 
cowards,  and  withdrew.  After  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Skinner  said,  "If  I  had  not  a 
wife  and  family,  I  should  call  him  to  account  for  the  stigma  which  he  applied  to  us." 
No  other  person  spoke  on  the  subject.  Reflecting  upon  it,  and  on  what  Mr.  Skinner 
had  said,  Richardson  thought  it  incumbent  on  him  to  demand  from  Mr.  Bate  an 
exception  from  the  imputation  of  cowardice  which  he  had  thrown  upon  the  pro- 
prietors. I  dined  with  Richardson  at  the  Rainbow  coffee-house  next  day,  for  the- 
purpose  of  his  addressing  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bate,  requiring  that  exception.  Richard- 
son's letter  was,  perhaps,  somewhat  loo  lofty  for  the  temper  of  such  a  man  as  Mr. 
Bate,  and  the  answer  was  not  conciliatory.  Another  letter  was  written  by  Richard- 
son, but  in  such  softened  terms  as  to  draw  a  more  pacific  answer  from  Mr.  Bate.  1 
believe  a  third  letter  followed,  with  no  better  effect ;  and  the  conclusion*\vas,  that 
the  parties  were  to  meet  the  following  morning  at  five  o'clock  in  Ih/de-Park.  I  was 
the  bearer  of  all  Mr.  Richardson's  letters  to  Mr.  Bate,  who  then  lived  in  Surrey- 
street,  Strand.  My  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  Mr.  Richardson  prevented  my  going 
to  bed,  and  I  waited  in  the  park  the  result  of  the  meeting.  A  coin  was  tossed  for 
the  first  fire,  which  fell  to  Mr.  Bate,  who  wounded  his  antagonist  in  the  right  arm, 
and  rendered  him  unable  to  return  the  fire.  Mr.  Bate  then,  as  I  understood,  came 
forward,  and  said  that  if  Mr.  Richardson's  letter  had  been  written  in  a  less  com- 
manding style,  this  event  would  not  have  happened,  and  that  he  had  no  hesitation 
then  in  saying,  that  he  would  otherwise  most  willingly  have  exempted  Mr.  Richard- 
son from  any  such  imputation  as  he  had  applied  to  the  other  proprietors,  holding 
him  in  respect  and  esteem.  Thus  the  matter  ended,  and  Mr.  Bate  and  Mr.  Richard- 
son afterward  were  always  on  the  rrrost  friendly  terms.  Mr.  Dennis  O'Brien  was 
the  second  to  Mr.  Bate,  and  Mr.  Mills,  a  surgeon,  the  friend  of  Mr.  Richardson,  his 
second.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Richardson  reached  home,  and  Mr.  Mills  had  examined  his 
arm,  he  showed  how  well  he  could  unite  the  pleasure  of  friendship  with  the  profits 
of  his  profession,  for  he  said,  "  Oh  !  Joey,  don't  be  alarmed ;  this  is  only  a  five 
guinea  job  I"  \ 

Mr.  Bale  related  to  me  a  circumstance  that  well  illustrates  the  character  of  an 
Irish  duellist,  which  ought  to  be  carefully  distinguished  from  that  of  an  Irish  gen- 
tleman. He  said  that  once  being  apprehensive  that  a  dispute  between  him  and 
another  gentleman  would  terminate  in  a  mortal  contest,  and  being  unprovided  with 
arms,  he  asked  a  Mr.  Brereton,  with  whom  he  had  long  been  acquainted,  to  lend 
him  a  brace  of  pistols.  Mr.  Brereton  seemed  delighted  with  the  request,  as  if  it  was 
a  great  favour  conferred  upon  him,  and  brought  the  weapons,  of  which  he  spoke- 
with  high  commendation,  as  if  admirably  constructed  for  the  purpose.  It  happened 
that  the  adverse  party  made  a  satisfactory  explanation  to  Sir  Henry,  and  he  returned 
the  pistols,  stating  that  he  had  fortunately  no  occasion  to  use  them.  Mr.  Brereton 
expressed  much  discontent  that  his  pistols  should  have  been  borrowed  for  nothing, 
and  then  observed  that  Sir  Henry  had  some  time  before  uttered  some  words  that  had 
offended  him,  and  that  he  had  often  determined  to  demand  an  explanation.  Sir  Henry 
assured  him  that  he  never  could  intend  to  offend  him,  and  had  no  recollection  of 
having  said  any  thing  that  could  possibly  displease  him.  This  courteous  assurance, 
however,  by  no  means  appeased  Brereton,  who  seemed  to  be  rising  into  violent 
emotion.  "  Oh  !  I  perceive  what  you  are  at,''  said  Sir  Henry  :  "  There,  I'll  take 
this  pistol  and  you  take  the  other,  and  we  will  settle  the  matter  immediately." 
Finding  Sir  Henry  so  resolute,  Brereton  said,  "  Ah!  I  see  you  are  a  man  of  spirit, 
and  as  you  are  an  old  friend,  let  us  shake  hands,  and  the  matter  is  over." 

Some  years  after,  Brereton,  in  a  tavern  in  Dublin,  waited  at  the  bottom  of  the 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


much  is  to  be  ascribed  to  that  knowledge  of  human  nature  which, 
the  conduct  of  a  public  journal  is  sure  to  afford,  a  species  and  an  ex- 
tent of  knowledge  which  is  by  no  means  calculated  to  operate  in 
favour  of  mankind. 

It  is  impossible  for  those  who  have  not  been  occupied  in  such  a 
situation,  or  who  have  not  been  familiar  with  the  scene  of  action,  to 
have  any  just  conception  of  the  depravity,  folly,  and  offensive  quali- 
ties which  it  tends  to  develope.  We  may,  therefore,  fairly  infer,  that 
Sir  Henry  saw  so  much  of  the  vice  and  vanity  of  the  world  as  to 
excite  something  of  a  misanthropic  feeling,  which  gave  vigour,  spirit, 
and  severity  to  his  pen. 

In  private  life  he  was  social,  good-humoured,  intelligent,  and  hos- 
pitable. He  particularly  excelled  in  relating  anecdotes,  in  which  the 
substance  was  always  prominent,  and  the  result  pointed.  He  was 
the  friend  of  merit  in  whatever  province  it  might  appear,  and  he 
justly  prided  himself  on  having  first  introduced  to  public  notice  the 
.musical  talents  of  the  late  Mr.  Shield,  a  man  whose  original  and 
powerful  genius  as  a  composer  was  even  excelled  by  the  benevolent 
and  moral  character  of  his  mind. 

Sir  Henry  possessed  dramatic  and  poetical  powers,  which  were 
successfully  exercised  upon  many  occasions.  He  was  a  profound 
judge  of  theatrical  merit,  and  hence  his  admiration  of  Garrick  was 
.heightened  into  a  cordial  friendship  between  him  and  that  unrivalled 
actor,  of  whose  character,  as  well  as  genius,  he  always  spoke  in  the 
warmest  terms  of  friendship  and  esteem. 

It  is  my  sincere  opinion,  from  a  full  consideration  of  the  character 
of  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley,  that  the  spirit,  acuteness,  and  vigour 
which  animated  his  pen  as  a  public  censor,  would  have  rendered  him 
conspicuous  for  heroism,  judgment,  zeal,  and  enterprise,  in  the  mili- 
tary or  naval  service,  at  once  honourable  to  himself,  and  glorious  to 
his  country.  As  a  magistrate,  he  was  distinguished  for  knowledge, 
decision,  firmness,  activity,  and  spirit.  He  was,  indeed,  so  eminently 
beneficial  within  his  sphere  of  action,  as  to  stand  forth  as  an  example 
to  all  who  may  be  invested  with  such  judicial  authority. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Dr.  Oliver  Goldsmith.  This  pleasing,  if  not  great  poet  and 
admirable  prose  writer,  I  never  knew.  He  may  be  said  to  have 
died  before  my  time,  but  not  before  I  had  begun  to  turn  my  attention 
towards  literary  pursuits.    I  once  volunteered  the  delivery  of  a  letter 

stairs,  with  his  hanger,  ready  to  attack  a  person  whom  he  expected  to  descend. 
The  other,  however,  was  prepared,  and  attacked  Brereton  first  with  a  drawn 
hanger,  and  gave  hitn  so  many  wounds  that  he  died  on  the  spot.  Such  was  the 
fate  of  that  desperate  man,  who  had  determined  to  make  a  victim  of  his  more  wary- 
opponent. 


DR.  GOLDSMITH. 


69 


to  him  in  the  Temple,  from  a  friend  of  my  father,  in  order  to  have  a 
chance  of  seeing  his  person ;  but  he  either  was  not  at  home,  or 
thought  it  prudent  to  deny  himself  even  to  a  boy,  as  his  circumstances 
were  probably  quite  poetical.  My  old  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  the  bar- 
rister, who  brought  letters  to  him  from  Cork,  in  the  year  1766,  used 
to  speak  of  his  benevolence  and  simplicity  in  the  highest  terms. 

Goldsmith's  life  and  character  are  so  well  known  to  the  world, 
that  it  would  be  wasting  time  to  enter  on  particulars.  I  shall  there- 
fore content  myself  with  relating  one  anecdote,  as  it  marks  his 
character,  and  has  not  been  printed.  Mr.  Cooke  had  engaged  to 
meet  a  party  at  Marylebone  Gardens.  He  had  cash  enough  to  pay 
for  admission,  but  not  for  the  necessity  of  coach-hire  and  the 
casualty  of  a  supper.  He  therefore  applied  to  his  friend  Goldsmith 
for  the  loan  of  a  guinea.  Poor  Goldsmith  was  in  the  same  Par- 
nassian  predicament,  but  undertook  to  borrow  the  sum  of  a  friend, 
and  to  bring  it  to  Cooke  before  he  departed  for  the  gardens.  Cooke 
waited  in  expectation  to  the  last  moment  that  allowed  him  a  chance 
of  witnessing  the  entertainments  of  the  place,  but  no  Goldsmith 
appeared.  He  therefore  trusted  to  fortune,  and  sallied  forth. 
Meeting  some  hospitable  Irish  countrymen  at  the  place,  he  partook 
of  a  good  supper,  and  did  not  return  to  his  chambers  till  five  in  the 
morning.  Finding  some  difficulty  in  opening  his  door,  he  stooped  to 
remove  the  impediment,  and  found  it  was  the  guinea  that  Goldsmith 
had  borrowed  for  him,  wrapped  in  paper,  which  he  had  attempted 
to  thrust  under  the  door,  not  observing  the  hole  in  the  letter-box, 
obvious  to  everybody  else.  Cooke  thanked  him  in  the  course  of 
tha  day,  but  observed  that  he  ought  not  to  have  exposed  the  sum  to 
such  danger  in  so  critical  a  state  of  their  finances,  as  the  laundress, 
coming  early  in  the  morning,  or  any  casual  stranger,  might  have 
seized  the  precious  deposite.  At  what  time  Goldsmith  had  left  the 
money  he  could  not  recollect ;  but  he  might  naturally  have  thought 
that  he  brought  it  too  late,  as  Cooke  had  left  the  chambers.  In 
answer  to  Cooke's  observation  as  to  the  danger  of  losing  the  guinea, 
he  said,  "  In  truth,  my  dear  fellow,  I  did  not  think  of  that."  The 
fact  is,  he  probably  thought  of  nothing  but  serving  a  friend. 

Goldsmith,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  luxuriant  playfulness,  was  easily 
put  out  of  countenance.  The  Miss  Clara  Brooke,  whom  I  have 
mentioned  before  as  one  of  my  earliest  and  dearest  playmates,  who 
lived  some  time  in  my  father's  family,  being  once  annoyed  at  a 
masquerade  by  the  noisy  gayety  of  Goldsmith,  who  laughed  heartily 
at  some  of  the  jokes  with  which  he  assailed  her,  was  induced  in 
answer  to  repeat  his  own  line  in  "  The  Deserted  Village," 

"  And  the  loud  laugh  which  spoke  the  vacant  mind." 

Goldsmith  was  quite  abashed  at  the  application,  and  retired,  as  if  by 
the  word  vacant  he  rather  meant  barren  than  free  from  care.  Dr. 
Johnson  wrote  the  prologue  to  Goldsmith's  comedy  of  "  The  Good- 
natured  Man,"  to  which  comedy  the  public  have  never  done  justice. 

D3 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


In  the  copy  of  this  prologue,  which  appeared  in  the  Public  Advertiser, 
in  1769,  the  following  couplet  was  inserted, — 

Amid  the  toils  of  this  returning  year, 
When  senators  and  nobles  learn  to  fear  ; 

but  it  was  omitted  in  the  copy  which  accompanied  the  play,  either 
from  Goldsmith's  or  Johnson's  caution,  but  probably  the  former. 
Johnson,  mentioning  the  author  in  the  prologue,  had  styled  him  "  our 
little  bard,"  but  the  pride  of  Goldsmith  revolted  at  this  epithet,  and 
it  was  changed  to  " anxious" 

I  mentioned  these  alterations  to  Mr.  Malone,  who  regretted  that 
he  had  not  known  of  them  before,  as  he  might  have  introduced  them 
into  a  new  edition  of  "  Bosweli's  Life  of  Johnson,"  to  illustrate  Gold- 
smith's character.  By  the  way,  just  as  the  first  quarto  edition  of 
that  most  amusing  biography  was  on  the  eve  of  publication,  I  met 
the  elder  James  Boswell,  the  biographer,  who  took  the  title-page  out 
of  his  pocket,  and  asked  me  what  1  thought  of  it.  It  began,  "  The 
Life  of  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.  containing,"  &c.  I  objected  to  the 
word  containing,  as  more  appropriate  to  an  advertisement  for  a  lost 
trunk,  as  "containing"  &x.  He  asked  me  what  word  I  would 
substitute.  I  proposed  "  comprehending." — "  Stay,"  said  he,  seeing 
Sir  Archibald  Macdonald  at  a  little  distance,  to  whom  he  ran  with 
the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  pointing  to  me,  consulted  Sir  Archibald 
on  the  proposed  alteration.  He  then  returned  to  me,  and  said, "  You 
are  right,  the  word  shall  be  adopted."  On  the  publication  of  the 
work,  he  sent  the  two  volumes  to  me.  It  was  an  unfailing  joke  with 
me  afterward,  when  I  met  him,  to  ask  him  when  we  should  bring  out 
another  edition  of  our  immortal  work ;  and  his  son,  my  excellent 
friend  James  Bosweli,  relished  the  same  jocular  allusion  to  himself  as 
editor  of  the  work. 

John  Wilkes.  I  knew  Mr.  Wilkes,  but  was  too  young  at  the 
time  to  be  admitted  into  any  intimacy  with  him,  even  if  I  had  then 
felt  any  turn  for  politics.  I  however  saw  enough  of  him  to  be  con- 
vinced that  he  was  irritable  and  passionate.  I  was  better  acquainted 
with  his  brother,  Heaton  Wilkes,  a  very  good  kind  of  man,  but  by  no 
means  calculated  to  take  any  conspicuous  part  in  public  life,  though 
his  brother  once  thought  that  he  should  be  able  to  procure  for  him 
the  chamberlainship  of  the  city,  a  situation  which  he  afterward  was 
glad  to  obtain  for  himself. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  John  Wilkes,  Heaton  told  me  that  he  had 
not  long  before  asked  him  for  the  loan  of  twenty  pounds,  but  was 
refused,  though  at  that  time  John  occupied  a  house  in  Grosvenor- 
square,  and  maintained  an  establishment  corresponding  with  the 
situation.  He  added,  that  his  brother  had  left  all  his  property  to  his 
daughter,  and  that  if  she  died  and  made  no  provision  for  him,  he 
should  be  in  a  destitute  situation.  Yet  John  Wilkes  was  a  friend  to 
the  people,  though  he  forgot  to  include  his  brother  among  them. 

John  Wilkes  had  certainly  written  two  biographical  works,  which 


30HN  WILKES. 


n 


he  intended  for  publication  after  his  death.  One  of  them  was  an 
account  of  his  private,  and  the  other  of  his  political  life  ;  but  his 
daughter  devoted  them  to  the  flames,  as  if  she  thought  there  was 
nothing  in  the  character  of  her  father  worth  recording.  Wilkes  had 
a  natural  son,  whom  I  knew.  His  father  sent  him  for  education  to 
Germany,  and  he  came  back  so  completely  Germanised,  that  he 
must  have  been  taken  through  life  for  a  foreigner.  He  went  by  the 
name  of  Smith,  and  his  father  procured  for  him  a  military  appoint- 
ment in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.  He  was  a  good 
sort  of  young  man,  inclined  to  boisterous  mirth,  but  without  any 
promising  abilities. 

The  last  time  I  met  Mr.  Wilkes  I  inquired  after  Smith,  who  I  said 
I  had  heard  was  at  Seringapatoz.  "  Yes,  "said  Wilkes,  "  he  was, 
when  I  last  heard  of  him,  at  SeringapaZam," — thus  somewhat  rudely 
differing  from  the  pronunciation  which  I  had  adopted  according  to 
general  usage. 

I  was  present  at  his  last  unsuccessful  attempt  for  the  representation 
of  Middlesex.  He  was  speaking  softly  to  me  about  the  progress  of 
the  poll,  as  we  were  standing  on  the  hustings  at  Brentford,  and 
happening  to  ask  him  if  he  thought  he  had  been  extensive  enough  in 
his  canvass,  he  raised  his  voice  in  a  most  ungentlemanlike  manner, 
and  in  very  passionate  tones  told  me  that  I  was  damping  his  cause. 
He  however  soon  recovered  his  temper,  and  talked  to  me  as  before, 
but  not  on  the  subject  of  the  pending  election.  It  is  astonishing  that 
a  man  of  his  learning  and  taste  should  have  indulged  himself  in  such 
cold-blooded  profligacy  as  he  exhibited  in  his  licentious  parody  of 
"  The  Essay  on  Man."  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  what  gratification 
a  mind  erudite  and  intelligent  as  that  of  Wilkes,  could  derive  from 
such  a  low  and  despicable  amusement,  particularly  as  all  his  political 
pursuits  for  personal  advantage,  and  all  his  contentions  with  individuals, 
especially  with  Mr.  Horne  Tooke,  as  well  as  his  luxurious  indulgence 
in  private  life,  had  never  weaned  him  from  literature. 

He  had  long  meditated  the  publication  of  a  correct  edition  of 
"  Gatullus,"  which  he  at  length  brought  out,  and  which  was  generally 
admitted  to  evince  his  taste  and  scholarship.  To  show  that  his 
respect  for  learning  and  talents  was  not  overborne  by  political 
animosity,  when  the  work  came  forward,  Mr.  Horne  Tooke  informed 
me  that  he  sent  a  copy  to  him.  In  his  public  controversy  with  that 
sturdy  adversary,  he  certainly  appeared  to  most  advantage.  Tooke's 
letters  were  rancorous  and  dull  in  comparison  with  the  lightness, 
spirit,  and  gayety  of  his  competitor's.  Wilkes  was  conscious  that 
"  Nature  had  not  formed  him  in  her  prodigality,"  but  he  used  to  say 
that  the  handsomest  man  could  only  be  rated  at  a  fortnight  before 
him  when  courting  the  smiles  of  the  ladies.  His  wit  and  humour 
were  admirable,  and  a  strong  proof  of  their  influence  is,  that  they 
could  triumph  over  the  impression  of  his  person.  Those  qualities 
however  cannot  throw  a  veil  over  the  profligacy  of  his  life,  the  loose- 
ness of  his  morals,  and  the  freedom  of  his  political  principles, — for  he 
was,  unquestionably,  not  merely  a  whig,  but  a  republican. 


72 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


The  late  Mr.  John  Palmer,  member  for  Bath,  told  me  that  he 
passed  a  few  days  with  Wilkes  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  On  one  occa- 
sion Mr.  Palmer  at  dinner  spoke  highly  of  some  pigeons  on  the  tabler 
as  of  an  extraordinary  size.  Wilkes  gave  the  following  account  of 
them.  "  I  was  particularly  fond  of  pigeons/'  said  he,  "  and  wanted 
to  encourage  a  fine  breed.  I  procured  some  from  France  and  other 
places  on  the  Continent,  but,  having  taken  all  possible  pains  to  render 
their  reception  agreeable,  after  a  short  time  they  returned  to  their 
native  place.  At  length  I  despaired  of  ever  possessing  a  breed  of 
my  favourite  bird,  when  a  friend  advised  me  to  try  Scotland.  I  did 
so,  and  the  pigeons  that  you  admire,  of  which  I  procured  a  large 
stock,  have  never  returned  to  their  own  country/' — Perhaps  the 
illiberal  hatred  of  Scotland  which  he  entertained  in  common  with 
Dr.  Johnson,  a  feeling  unworthy  and  disgraceful  to  both,  was  one  of 
the  reasons  why  the  great  moralist  consented  to  be  acquainted  with 
him. 

There  are  many  proofs  of  Wilkes's  wit,  which  are  too  well  known 
to  be  introduced  in  this  place.  The  following,  however,  I  believe,, 
have  not  publicly  appeared.  A  lady  once  asked  him  to  take  a  hand 
at  whist,  but  he  declined  in  the  following  terms,  "  Dear  lady,  do  not 
ask  me,  for  I  am  so  ignorant  that  I  cannot  distinguish  the  difference 
between  a  king  and  a  knave  /"  Here  the  republican  tendency  of  his 
feelings  is  manifest. 

In  a  dispute  between  Sir  Watkin  Lewes  and  himself,  the  former 
said, "  I'll  be  your  butt  no  longer."  "  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Wilkes, 
"  I  never  like  an  empty  owe." 

It  was  generally  rumoured  at  the  time,  that  Wilkes  wrote  an  answer 
to  a  satirical  letter  to  Sir  Watkin  from  Home  Tooke,  when  Sir  Wat- 
kin  was  sheriff.  The  answer  concluded  as  follows :  "  It  only  remains,, 
sir,  for  me,  in  my  office  of  sheriff,  to  attend  you  to  that  fate  which 
you  have  long  deserved,  and  which  the  people  have  impatiently 
expected." 

Wilkes  was  among  the  persons  who  were  suspected  to  be  Junius^ 
but  though  witty,  pleasant,  and  humorous,  he  never  could  soar  to  the 
dignified  height  of  the  great  inscrutable  censor  of  the  times,  who  threw 
firebrands  among  all  ranks  without  distinction  or  remorse.  Upon 
another  occasion  he  displayed  his  sarcastic  humour  on  royalty,  for  he 
said  "  he  loved  the  king  (George  the  Third)  so  much,  that  he  hoped 
never  to  see  another." 

Upon  having  a  snuff-box  presented  to  him  to  take  a  pinch,  he  said,. 
u  No,  sir,  I  thank  you,  I  have  no  small  vices." 

One  evening,  when  the  House  of  Commons  was  going  to  adjourn^ 
he  begged  permission  to  make  a  speech,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  I  have  sent 
a  copy  to  the  '  Public  Advertiser,'  and  how  ridiculous  should  I  appear 
if  it  were  published  without  having  been  delivered." 

When  he  was  member  for  Aylesbury,  he  invited  the  mayor  to 
visit  him  in  London,  promising  him  a  hospitable  reception.  The 
mayor,  who  had  never  been  in  the  metropolis,  declined  the  invitation, 
alleging  that  he  had  heard  London  "  contained  nothing  but  rogues 


JOHN  WILKES  THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM. 


73 


and  prostitutes."  Wilkes,  with  a  confidential  air,  said,  "  Why,~to  tell 
you  the  truth,  Mr.  Mayor,  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  there  are  in 
London  a  few  suspected  characters." 

The  last  time  I  met  Wilkes  was  in  Holborn,  when  I  resided  in 
Hatton  Garden,  the  scene  of  my  infant  days,  and  of  all  my  youthful 
enjoyments.  I  expressed  my  surprise  at  seeing  him  in  that  street,  as 
his  usual  course  home  to  Knightsbridge  or  to  Grosvenor-square,  was 
through  Cheapside  and  the  Strand,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  had  been 
at  his  old  friend  Horne  Tooke's  trial,  which  was  then  proceeding. 
His  answer,  from  the  loss  of  teeth,  was  not  intelligible ;  and  making 
a  motion  as  if  I  was  prevented  from  hearing,  by  the  noise  of  passing 
carriages,  he  repeated  the  same  sounds,  which,  receiving  as  if  I  un- 
derstood him,  I  found  on  reflection  were,  "  Forbid  it,  delicacy." 

Wilkes  was  certainly  a  brave,  learned,  and  witty  man,  but  his 
patriotism  was  a  mere  trade  for  power  and  profit.  My  friend  Joe 
Richardson  used  ludicrously  to  say,  that  he  had  "  an  affectionate  con- 
tempt for  Wilkes."  I  was  quite  a  boy  when  Wilkes  was  imprisoned 
in  the  King's  Bench,  and  was  on  the  ground  of  St.  George's  Fields 
when  young  Allen  was  shot,  little  thinking  that  I  should  live  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  favourite  of  the  mob. 

The  mob  collected  in  vast  numbers  every  day  before  his  window 
in  the  King's  Bench,  and  the  loudest  acclamations  arose  whenever  he 
appeared  before  them.  There  was  certainly  nothing  respectable  in 
Wilkes  but  his  determined  spirit,  his  talents,  and  his  erudition.  He 
was  said  to  be  elegant  in  his  manners,  but  in  reality  he  was  irritable 
in  his  temper,  and,  at  times,  rude  in  his  behaviour. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Earl  of  Chatham.  I  once,  and  only  once,  saw  this  noble 
statesman,  happening  to  be  present  in  the  House  of  Lords  when  he 
appeared  there  for  the  last  time.  Earl  Temple  came  first,  and  a 
whisper  quickly  spread  among  the  people  before  the  bar,  importing 
that  "as  the  jackal  was  come,  the  lion  might  soon  be  expected." 
The  venerable  Earl  of  Chatham  arrived  soon  after.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  suit  of  black,  which  by  no  means  appeared  to  be  new.  There 
was  nothing  remarkably  dignified  in  his  form  altogether,  but,  old  as 
he  appeared,  there  was  a  grandeur  in  his  features,  though  they  evi- 
dently indicated  the  languor  of  sickness.  He  arose  feebly,  and  his 
speech  at  first  was  weak,  but  became  stronger  as  he  proceeded.  The 
subject  was  our  war  with  America.  Young  as  I  was,  I  was  struck 
by  the  force  of  his  language  and  the  variety  of  his  expressions.  He 
said,  "  Have  we  resisted  Gallic  invasions,  Scottish  irruptions,  British 
insurrections,  Danish  intrusions,  Irish  rebellions,"  and  mentioned  other 
attacks  upon  this  country,  varying  his  epithets  on  every  similar  occa- 


74 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


sion.  I  accompanied  my  friend  Mr.  Richardson  at  this  time,  and  we 
both  agreed  as  to  the  several  terms  which  he  had  adopted. 

When  he  had  closed  his  speech,  apparently  more  from  fatigue  than 
from  having  fully  expressed  his  sentiments,  the  Duke  of  Richmond 
rose  and  answered  him  with  great  violence,  partly  resulting  from  the 
warmth  of  his  feelings,  and  partly,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  from  vexation 
that,  for  want  of  oratorical  fertility,  he  was  frequently  obliged  to  pause. 
He  looked  at  Lord  Chatham  all  the  time,  and  directed  all  he  said 
particularly  to  his  lordship.  The  earl,  in  animadverting  on  the  pro- 
posal of  acknowledging  the  independence  of  our  American  colonies, 
had  exclaimed  emphatically, "  Shall  we  disinherit  the  Prince  of  Wales 
of  his  hereditary  dominions?"  This  question  seemed  chiefly  to  agitate 
the  irritable  temper  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  who  answered  with 
great  vehemence,  and  in  the  whole  of  his  manner  failed  to  treat  the 
earl  with  that  respect  which  was  due  to  him  for  his  vast  abilities,  his 
eminent  services,  his  high  and  venerable  character,  and  his  advanced 
time  of  life. 

During  the  whole  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  intemperate,  hesi- 
tating, and  confused  harangue,  the  Earl  of  Chatham  occasionally 
nodded,  not,  as  I  presumed  to  think  at  the  time,  and  as  I  still  conceive 
to  have  been  the  case,  as  if  he  assented  to  any  thing  that  had  been 
advanced  by  the  duke,  but  only  in  reference  to  points  that  he  intended 
to  answer.  Before,  however,  the  duke  had  ended  his  violent  philippic, 
the  Earl  of  Chatham  fell  back,  but  was  immediately  supported  by  the 
peers  who  were  near  him. 

If  I  may  venture  to  express  my  own  impression  of  the  scene,  I 
should  say  what,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  I  still  think,  that  the 
indignation  of  the  Earl  of  Chatham  at  being  assailed  in  so  coarse, 
vehement,  and  vulgar  a  style,  by  a  person  so  much  beneath  him  in 
talents,  knowledge,  experience,  and  wisdom,  operating  upon  the  known 
irritability  of  the  noble  lord's  temper,  probably  increased  by  age, 
actually  choked  him  with  passion,  to  which  the  feebleness  of  his  frame, 
debilitated  also  by  sickness,  gave  way.  This  opinion  I  communicated 
to  Mr.  Richardson,  who  assured  me  that  he  had  drawn  the  same 
inference. 

The  attack  on  the  illustrious  statesman,  even  as  the  scene  passed 
before  me,  reminded  me  of  the  fable  which  represents  the  insult 
offered  to  the  dying  lion.  I  do  not  presume  to  question  the  abilities 
of  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  or  his  public  spirit,  but  he  had  connected 
himself  much  with  a  certain  democratical  party  at  that  period,  with- 
out, perhaps,  being  sufficiently  aware  that  they  did  not  act  upon  the 
pure  old  whig  principles,  which  really  aimed  at  the  preservation  of 
the  British  constitution  without  intending  to  lessen  the  proper  rights 
and  dignity  of  the  throne,  but  were  attempting  to  establish  a  republic, 
of  which  they  expected  to  become  the  leaders :  though,  happily,  the 
example  of  revolutionary  France  and  the  good  sense  of  the  country 
restrained  them,  or  the  Duke  of  Richmond  might  have  found  to  his 
cost  that  he  would  have  sunk  with  the  aristocratical  branch  of  our 
unrivalled  constitution. 


THIS  ABBE  SECHABD. 


75 


As  the  scene  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  record  may  be  thought 
to  have  some  historical  interest  attached  to  it,  I  will  add  a  few  words 
on  the  subject.  Many  years  after  this  interesting  event  took  place,  I 
was  surprised,  on  seeing  the  late  Mr.  Copley's  fine  picture  of  the 
death  of  the  Earl  of  Chatham,  at  the  accuracy  of  the  representation ; 
and  unless  the  artist  had  been  present,  I  cannot  account  for  the  truth 
of  the  arrangement,  as  it  is  hardly  to  be  conceived  that  even  he,  not 
being  aware  of  what  was  likely  to  be  the  result,  would  have  viewed 
the  whole  with  any  future  consideration  of  picturesque  effect.  One 
circumstance  which  particularly  struck  me  in  the  picture  was,  the 
position  of  Lord  Mansfield,  leaning  on  the  table  and  looking  with 
apparent  indifference  on  the  fainting  statesman,  while  all  the  rest  of 
the  members  were  crowding  towards  him  with  evident  eagerness  and 
solicitude.  I  could  not  help  recollecting  at  the  time  the  hostility 
which  had  long  existed  between  the  two  noble  statesmen,  and  I  even 
presumed  to  conceive  that  Lord  Mansfield  did  not  view  with  regret 
the  probable  end  of  his  powerful,  and,  indeed,  irresistible  competitor. 
It  is  not  improper  to  remark,  that  the  picture  is  erroneous  in  one 
respect,  as  the  peers  never  debate  in  their  parliamentary  robes ;  but 
the  taste  of  the  artist  naturally  tended  to  the  picturesque,  and,  cer- 
tainly, the  scene  as  he  has  represented  it,  appears  with  more  sena- 
torial dignity. 

Soon  after  the  French  revolution  broke  out,  I  became  acquainted 
with  a  French  ecclesiastic,  named  the  Abbe  Sechard,  who  seemed  to 
be  deeply  interested  in  that  melancholy  event,  and  apprized  of  all  the 
designs  of  its  leaders.  He  predicted  to  me  all  the  successes  of  the 
revolutionary  armies  in  France,  Italy,  and  other  parts  of  the  European 
continent.  All  his  predictions  were  rapidly  fulfilled.  Happening  to 
be  favoured  with  the  attention  of  a  gentleman  high  in  office  at  that 
time,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  inform  him  of  what  the  abbe  had  said 
to  me,  not  in  confidence,  but  apparently  with  a  triumphant  anticipa- 
tion of  the  revolutionary  achievements.  I  ventured  to  suggest,  not  as 
a  politician,  but  as  an  alarmist,  to  use  my  old  friend  Sheridan's  word, 
that  in  the  present  state  of  things,  when  the  lower  orders  of  people, 
seemed  likely  to  be  ensnared  by  the  revolutionary  doctrines,  and  in- 
cited by  democratical  orators  to  similar  measures,  it  would  be  wise  on 
the  part  of  government  to  grant  annuities  upon  liberal  terms,  in  order 
to  render  the  measure  desirable  to  the  people  at  large,  and  thereby 
create  a  strong  and  extensive  interest  in  support  of  the  British  con- 
stitution and  government.  I  took  the  liberty  of  remarking,  that,  as  it 
was  a  question  of  security  rather  than  of  revenue,  the  conditions 
ought  to  be  liberal,  even  should  government  derive  no  advantage 
from  the  measure,  or  even  though  it  should  be  attended  with  some 
expense. 

Such  a  measure  was  afterward  adopted,  but  it  would  be  ridiculous 
in  me  to  suppose  that  my  humble  suggestion  had  any  weight  in  pro- 
ducing it,  particularly  as  it  was  founded  upon  a  principle  which  never 
occurred  to  me,  viz.  that  of  receiving  only  funded  stock  in  the  pur- 
chase of  these  government  annuities,  thereby  gradually  to  diminish 


76 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


the  national  debt.  The  measure  answered  its  purpose  till  the  proba- 
bility  of  danger  was  removed,  and  the  precaution  no  longer  required. 

The  gentleman  to  whom  I  made  those  communications,  and  ta 
whom  I  presumed  to  offer  those  suggestions,  is  no  longer  in  office,  but 
98  advanced  in  rank,  and  can  attest  the  correctness  of  my  present 
statement.  The  Abbe  Sechard  positively  declared  that,  to  his  certain 
knowledge,  the  last  King  of  France,  when  Monsieur,  had  lavished 
upwards  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  upon  a  favourite  mistress, 
and  that  his  general  expenses  before  the  revolution  had  been  marked 
by  similar  profusion. 

The  abbe  attended  the  Duchess  of  Kingston,  on  her  visit  to  the 
Empress  of  Russia,  as  a  sort  of  chaplain, — a  strange  office,  as  the 
duchess  was  never  understood  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic  j  but  from 
the  general  tenor  of  her  life,  it  may  be  reasonably  supposed,  that  her 
sense  of  religion  was  much  upon  a  par  with  her  regard  for  decency,, 
as  it  is  well  known  that,  she  once  appeared  in  a  masquerade  at  Rane- 
lagh,  in  the  character  of  Iphigenia,  almost  without  the  vulgar  incum- 
brance of  attire. 

What  became  of  the  abbe  I  never  heard.  He  was  a  very  intelli- 
gent man,  had  seen  much  of  the  world,  was  full  of  anecdotes,  very 
fond  of  music,  and  accompanied  himself  tolerably  on  the  piano-forte. 
He  appeared  to  be  about  seventy  years  of  age,  but  manifested  all  the 
ardour  of  youth  when  the  French  revolution  became  the  subject  of 
conversation,  and  expressed  his  admiration  of  its  principles  with  ve- 
hemence and  the  most  unguarded  freedom.  What  he  said  of  the  ex- 
travagance of  the  late  King  of  France,  though  he  asserted  it  with  ap- 
parent sincerity  and  confidence,  was  probably  much  exaggerated  ;  yet 
it  is  certain  that  the  pride,  arrogance,  and  dissipation  of  too  many  of 
the  French  noblesse,  in  a  great  degree  precipitated  the  revolution. 
The  privileged  orders  of  society  in  all  countries  too  frequently  treat 
the  general  community  as  inferior  beings.  The  natural  consequence 
is,  that  some  men  of  high  intellectual  power  arise  among  the  com- 
monalty, men  who  do  not,  as  Dryden  expresses  it,  see  nature 
14  through  the  spectacle  of  books,"  but  penetrate  into  the  substance 
of  things,  and  propagate  principles  calculated  to  give  a  new  foundation 
to  society.  Such  men  will  be  found  in  all  states,  and  unless  the  higher 
orders  manifest  less  arrogance,  no  country  can  be  secure  from  revo- 
lutionary movements.  The  free  intercourse,  however,  that  prevails 
in  the  British  empire,  between  the  several  gradations  of  rank,  imparts 
a  stability  to  the  British  government  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  any 
other. 

About  this  time,  I  became  acquainted  with  the  late  Lady  Wallace, 
sister  of  the  late  Duchess  of  Gordon.  She  was  a  woman  of  a 
strong  mind,  and  much  disposed  to  play  the  part  of  a  politician.  I 
remember  sitting  with  her  one  night  in  the  pit  of  the  King's  Theatre? 
when  she  indulged  herself  in  commenting  on  the  revolutionary  prin- 
ciples of  France,  which  then  seemed  to  be  rapidly  spreading  over  this 
country.  By  what  I  could  gather  from  her  discourse,  she  seemed  to 
think  that  Mr.  Fox  and  his  party  supposed  those  principles  would 


MR.  FOX  AND  THE  WHIGS. 


77 


soon  produce  the  same  effects  here,  and  that  they  were  preparing 
for  the  event,  in  expectation  that  they  would  be  able  to  maintain  the 
same  ascendency  over  the  people  in  general,  when  the  British  mon- 
archy should  be  destroyed,  as  they  held  over  their  immediate  political 
adherents.  With  a  sound  knowledge  of  the  real  tendency  of  those 
principles,  she  observed  that  Mr.  Fox  was  but  a  shallow  politician  if 
he  expected  to  be  one  of  the  rulers  of  the  people  when  the  throne 
should  be  overturned.  "  The  probability  is,"  said  she,  "  that  while 
Mr.  Fox  harangued  the  mob,  for  we  must  not  insult  the  people  in 
general  by  supposing  that  his  audience  would  be  otherwise  than  the 
mob,  some  sergeant  of  the  army  would  knock  him  on  the  head  in  the 
midst  of  his  sputtering  elocution." 

If  I  were  to  give  full  credit  to  what  Lady  Wallace  said,  I  should 
conclude  that  she  was  in  the  secret  of  the  party,  and  that  they  wished, 
and  even  endeavoured  to  promote,  the  events  for  which  they  were 
making  preparation. 

That  Mr.  Burke  was  evidently  of  this  opinion,  his  quarrel  with  Mr. 
Fox,  and  subsequent  attack  upon  him,  fully  demonstrate.  Mr.  Burke 
accused  him  of  having  sent  an  ambassador  from  the  party  to  the 
court  of  Russia,  to  contravene  the  measures  of  his  own  government ; 
and  this  was  a  fact  which  could  not  be  denied.  But  Mr.  Burke  did 
no  credit  to  himself  by  his  condemnation  of  the  measure  in  question^ 
since  at  the  time  it  was  adopted,  he  must  have  been  aware  of  it,  and 
have  sanctioned  it  with  his  own  concurrence,  for  it  is  impossible  to 
suppose  that  what  was  styled  the  Fox  party,  of  which  he  was  a  lead- 
ing member,  would  have  ventured  upon  so  important  a  measure 
without  his  knowledge  and  participation. 

His  attack  upon  the  Duke  of  Bedford  for  objecting  to  his  pension,, 
violent  as  it  wras,  might  be  excused  on  the  ground  of  self-defence  ; 
but  his  reference  to  the  ancestors  of  his  grace,  and  the  means  by 
which  they  acquired  w7ealth  and  distinction,  was  illiberal  and  mean^ 
and,  after  all,  it  would  be  difficult  to  show  how  it  had  been  deserved* 

Mr.  Burke  had  previously  broken  off  all  connexion  with  Mr. 
Sheridan,  on  account  of  something  which  the  latter  had  said  on  the 
subject  of  the  French  revolution.  I  remember  meeting  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan at  the  Haymarket  Theatre  during  the  time  when  it  was  opened 
for  the  reception  of  the  Italian  singers  and  dancers,  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Opera  House,  when  a  room  was  opened  for  the  higher 
ranks,  taken  from  an  adjoining  house,  little  better  than  a  stable,  and 
lined  with  green  baize  to  conceal  its  homely  aspect. 

His  late  majesty,  when  Prince  of  Whales,  used,  after  the  perform- 
ance, to  visit  this  room,  and,  in  spite  of  its  green  baize  lining  and  gen- 
eral homeliness  of  aspect,  was  of  course  followed  by  all  the  rank  and 
fashion  in  the  house. 

Meeting  Mr.  Sheridan  in  this  room,  and  being  upon  friendly  and 
familiar  terms  with  him,  I  asked  him  if  there  was  any  likelihood  of 
his  being  reconciled  to  Mr.  Burke ;  and  with  all  his  acuteness,  in 
order  to  show  how  little  he  knew  of  the  character  of  the  latter,  he 
told  me  that ';  matters  were  coming  round,"  though,  from  the  irritable 


7B 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


and  vindictive  temper  of  Mr.  Burke,  an  amicable  arrangement  was 
impossible. 

Mr.  Burke  was  reputed  to  be  disposed  to  "  melting  charity,"  but 
the  hardness  of  his  nature  was  evident  in  his  rejection  of  all  friendly 
overtures  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Fox,  who  absolutely  shed  tears  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  when  he  found  that  an  old  and  apparently  an 
indissoluble  friendship  was  for  ever  extinguished.  My  late  friend  Mr. 
William  Cooke,  an  old  member  of  the  English  bar,  who  brought 
letters  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Burke  from  Ireland  in  the  year  1766, 
and  became  intimate  with  him  and  his  brother  Richard,  spoke  of 
them  both  as  not  entitled  to  any  moral  aspect ;  and  the  conduct  of 
Mr.  Burke  towards  Mr.  Hastings  has  been  often  and  strenuously  im- 
puted to  resentment,  because  the  governor-general  of  India  refused 
to  give  an  appointment  of  great  responsibility  to  a  relation  of  Mr. 
Burke,  who  had  been  stigmatized  for  his  profligacy  at  home. 

I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  provoke  the  resentment  of  the  friends  and 
admirers  of  Mr.  Burke  by  what  I  have  here  written,  butl  cannot  for- 
get the  almost  indecent  exultation  with  which  he  spoke  of  our  late 
beloved  monarch  during  his  first  mental  alienation,  which  excited  the 
sympathy  and  grief  of  all  ranks  of  the  people.  Mr.  Burke  said  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  that  "  God  had  hurled  him  from  the  throne." 
This  was  said  of  a  monarch  who  afterward  recovered  and  rendered 
the  whole  British  empire  a  scene  of  loyal  festivity. 

Whatever  might  be  the  abstract  notions  of  Mr.  Burke  on  the  sub- 
lime and  beautiful,  it  is  evident  that  he  was  defective  in  taste,  for 
otherwise  he  would  not  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  before  the 
world  at  large,  considering  the  dissemination  of  the  debates,  have  in- 
dulged in  the  indecent  allusion  to  "  the  rinsing  of  the  bottles,"  and  the 
vulgarity  of  "  three  skips,"  &c.  His  merits  as  a  politician  and  an 
orator  cannot  be  disputed  ;  yet  his  reflections  on  the  French  revo- 
lution were  too  diffuse,  and  he  entered  into  a  formal  and  elaborate 
discussion  of  political  theories  of  government,  as  promulgated  by  the 
sanguinary  usurpers  of  France,  evidently  too  speculative  for  practice, 
and  only  likely  to  obtain  an  ephemeral  existence  with  the  transitory 
demagogues  who  projected  them. 

Having  touched  upon  the  character  of  Mr.  Burke  in  another  place, 
I  shall  here  drop  the  subject,  except  to  express  my  surprise  that  Dr. 
Johnson  should  have  held  him  in  such  high  admiration  as  to  think  it 
necessary  to  collect  all  his  intellectual  powers  whenever  he  was 
likely  to  come  in  competition  with  him. 

Dr.  Monsey  told  me  that  he  placed  Mr.  Burke  in  a  ludicrous  situa- 
tion soon  after  the  first  publication  of  his  work  on  the  "  Sublime  and 
Beautiful."  The  sincerity  of  the  doctor  was  acknowledged  by  all 
who  knew  him  and  .could  estimate  his  character,  but  he  was  a 
matter-of-fact  man,  and  only  solicitous  for  practical  and  useful  truths. 
Meeting  Mr.  Burke,  I  believe  at  Mrs.  Montague's,  he  said  with  his 
usual  blunt  sincerity,  "  Mr.  Burke,  I  have  read  your  work  on  the 
Sublime,  but  I  don't  understand  it — to  me  it  appears  to  be  nothing- 
bat  4  about  it  goddess,  and  about  it.' — What  do  you  mean  by  sub- 


TIIE  EARL  OF  GUILDFORD. 


79 


hme  1  it  seems  to  me  inconsistent  with  nature  and  common  sense." 
The  company  looked  on  Mr.  Burke,  anxious  for  his  answer.  The 
doctor  said  he  seemed  to  be  a  little  puzzled  and  err!jarrassed,  and 
only  said  in  answer,  "  There  is  certainly  a  sublime  in  nature,  though 
I  cannot  at  once  define  it." 

Upon  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Burke,  as  paymaster,  Dr.  Monsey 
wrote  a  friendly  and  facetious  letter  to  him.  I  saw  Mr.  Burke's 
answer  at  the  time.  It  was  elegant,  playful,  and  friendly.  It  prin- 
cipally turned  upon  the  fertility  of  the  doctor's  fancy  at  his  advanced 
time  of  life,  which,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  was  beyond  his  nine- 
tieth year.  The  doctor  wrote  a  similar  letter  to  the  celebrated 
Charles  Townshend,  brother  of  Lord  Townshend,  on  his  being  ad- 
mitted into  the  administration,  and  I  remember  that  the  answer  of 
that  witty  statesman  was  full  of  humour  and  expressions  of  friend- 
ship. Dr.  Monsey  had  letters  from  the  most  distinguished  characters 
of  his  time,  which  would  be  a  valuable  treasure  in  the  present  age  of 
sutographical  zeal  and  solicitude. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Francis  North,  Earl  of  Guildford.  This  nobleman  was  one  of 
the  most  facetious,  pleasant,  and  humorous  characters  I  ever  knew. 
When  I  had  first  the  pleasure  of  being  introduced  to  him,  his  father 
and  elder  brother  were  alive,  and  he  was  distinguished  among  his 
friends  by  the  familiar  designation  of  Frank  North.  In  point  of  size 
and  pleasantry,  he  quite  realized  the  idea  of  Falstaff.  He  was  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  present  General  Phipps,  George  Colman 
the  younger,  John  Kemble,  and  other  conspicuous  characters  of  the 
time.  He  is  the  frolicsome  hero  of  one  of  my  friend  Colman's 
sportive  tales,  where  he  is  described  as  having  roused  a  medical  man 
at  midnight,  who  had  inscribed  upon  the  side  of  his  door,  "  Please  to 
ring  the  bell."  The  story  is  so  well  known  that  it  is  only  necessary 
to  refer  to  it,  and  they  who  have  not  read  it  have  a  great  pleasure  to 
come. 

Frank  North  went  abroad  for  a  year  or  two,  and  on  his  return 
became  Earl  of  Guildford,  by  the  death  of  his  elder  brother.  During 
his  absence  he  laid  a  wager  that  he  would  write  a  dramatic  piece 
within  a  given  time.  The  piece  was  written  and  sent  to  this  country, 
consigned  to  his  friend  Colman,  then  proprietor  and  manager  of  the 
Haymarket  Theatre,  and  was  brought  out  there  under  the  title  of 
14  The  English  Baron."  The  wager  was  for  a  hundred  pounds,  which 
the  author  of  course  won. 

Soon  after  he  became  Earl  of  Guildford  I  met  him,  and  he  saluted 
me  in  his  usual  free,  open,  and  good-humoured  manner.  "  Before  I 
answer,"  said  I,  "  I  must  know  whether  I  am  speaking  to  Frank 


80 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


North  or  to  Lord  Guildford  T — *'  Oh  !  Frank  North  for  ever,  among 
old  friends,"  said  he,  and  we  renewed  our  intercourse,  as  far  as  the 
difference  of  our  ranks  admitted,  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Be- 
fore he  became  an  earl  he  held  an  appointment  under  Mr.  Pitt,  then 
lord  warden  of  the  cinque  ports,  and  his  duty  was  to  be  present 
at  Walmer  Castle,  in  order  to  receive  Mr.  Pitt,  when  the  great 
statesman  took  possession  of  the  place.  On  this  occasion  he  took 
with  him  as  a  companion  a  person  who  acted  in  a  subordinate  situa- 
tion with  the  Fox  party,  and  was  chiefly  employed  in  collecting  the 
parliamentary  friends  of  Mr.  Fox  when  the  opposition  had  any 
favourite  measure  to  support  in  the  House  of  Commons.  This  per- 
son was  a  man  without  education  or  intellectual  powers,  but  had  seen 
much  of  life,  and  related  vulgar  stories  with  some  humour ;  when  he 
failed  in  language,  he  generally  supplied  the  deficiency  with  winks, 
nods,  and  other  significant  gestures. 

Frank  North  used  to  describe  him  as  the  great  Lord  Mansfield 
described  a  dull  companion,  when  a  friend  expressed  his  surprise 
that  his  lordship  should  be  so  intimate  with  so  barren  a  visiter. 
"Why,"  said  Lord  Mansfield,  "  I  use  him  as  a  couch  to  rest  (  my 
mind  upon,  when  I  am  fatigued  with  thinking,  and  disinclined  to  all 
farther  intellectual  labour."  Such  was  the  manner  in  which  Frank 
North  spoke  of  his  companion,  except  that  he  derived  amusement 
from  the  blunders  of  this  humble  friend,  and  I  seldom  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  him  that  he  did  not  detain  me  a  few  minutes  to  relate 
some  of  those  blunders. 

His  manner  of  describing  what  passed  at  the  interview  when  he 
officially  received  Mr.  Pitt  as  lord  warden,  was  so  humorous  and 
so  characteristic,  that  I  am  always  diverted  with  the  recollection. 
He  said  that  he  introduced  his  humble  friend  to  Mr.  Pitt  as  Colonel 
 ,  though  he  had  reason  to  believe  the  statesman  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  person  and  real  situation  of  the  man,  from  his  con- 
stant attendance  at  the  House  of  Commons,  as  an  humble  servant 
of  the  Fox  party.  Mr.  Pitt  staid  to  partake  of  a  dinner  which  had 
been  provided  for  him,  and  the  pseudo-colonel  was  one  of  the  party. 
Mr.  North  said  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  describe  the  devo- 
tion which  the  colonel  paid  to  Mr.  Pitt,  who  occasionally  directed  his 
attention  to  the  colonel.  The  colonel  then  bowed,  as  if  he  were  in 
the  presence  of  some  being  above  the  race  of  mankind. 

Mr.  North  said,  that  whenever  Mr.  Pitt  pronounced  the  word 
colonel,  there  was  a  sort  of  subtle  sarcasm  in  his  tone  which  fully  in- 
dicated that  he  was  aware  of  the  colonel's  military  character  ;  but 
when  Mr.  Pitt  asked  the  colonel  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him,, 
the  reverence  of  the  latter  mounted  to  such  a  height  that  he  seemed 
to  be  almost  bereft  of  his  senses  on  receiving  so  great  an  honour. 
At  length  Mr.  Pitt  left  the  party  on  his  return  to  town.  For  some 
time  the  colonel  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  meditation,  as  if  an  im- 
portant matter  engrossed  his  whole  faculties.  However,  after  some 
hesitation  and  apparent  difficulty  to  develop  his  feelings,  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  "  What  extraordinary  things  happen  in  this  life  ! — 


JOHN  KEMBLE. 


81 


could  I  ever  think  that  I  should  live  to  shake  hands  with  that  fellow  f 
According  to  Frank  North's  interpretation,  he  was  afraid  that  having 
dined  in  company  with  Mr.  Pitt,  and  shown  such  reverence  to  their 
great  political  adversary,  the  story  might  reach  the  ears  of  his 
patrons,  the  Foxites,  in  town,  and  bring  suspicion  on  his  political 
rectitude  and  consistency. 

Such  was  the  story  as  related  by  Frank  North,  with  admirable 
humour,  and  which  was  too  good  to  be  concealed  from  the  Foxites, 
who  made  allowance  for  the  consternation  of  the  colonel,  and  did  not 
the  less  confide  in  his  political  sincerity. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  feelings  of  an  author  arose  in  the  mind 
of  honest  Frank  after  our  mutual  greetings  on  his  arrival  in  town  : 
and  his  first  question  was  whether  I  had  attended  the  representation 
of  his  play.  I  told  him  the  fact  without  any  colouring,  viz.  that  the 
characters  were  well  cast,  and  well  represented  ;  that  in  scenic 
decoration,  it  was  brought  forward  in  a  manner  creditable  to  the 
piece,  and  to  the  manager  as  his  friend,  and  had  been  well  received 
by  the  audience ;  finally,  that,  considering  it  to  be  a  hasty  building 
upon  a  whimsical  foundation,  it  manifested  a  power  of  doing  some- 
thing better  with  time  and  attention.  He  was  gratified  with  this 
account,  which  was  confirmed  by  the  testimony  of  other  friends.* 

Honest  Frank  !  his  death  was  a  loss  to  many  friends,  and  his 
familiar  ease  was  no  abatement  to  the  dignity  of  his  rank.  As  far 
as  his  fortune  would  enable  him,  he  would  have  kept  up  all  the  hospi- 
table spirit  of  the  ancient  nobility ;  and  without  aristocratical  pride, 
would  have  held  forth  an  example  to  his  equals,  and  diffused  good- 
humour  around  him,  to  the  full  extent  of  his  property  and  influence. 
His  talents,  knowledge,  and  manners  endeared  him  to  all  his  friends, 
from  the  studiously  grave  John  Kemble  to  the  exuberantly  vivacious 
George  Colman. 

Mr.  John  Kemble.  I  became  acquainted  with  this  gentleman  in 
the  first  season  of  his  performance  in  London,  at  Drury-lane 
Theatre.  I  attended  his  first  appearance,  which  was  in  the  character 
of  Hamlet.  It  was  impossible  to  avoid  being  struck  with  his  person 
and  demeanour,  though  the  latter  was  in  general  too  stately  and  for- 
mal ;  but,  perhaps,  it  only  appeared  so  to  me,  as  I  had  seen  Garrick 
perform  the  same  character  several  times  a  few  years  before,  and 
had  a  vivid  recollection  of  his  excellence.  There  was  some  novelty 
in  Mr.  Kemble's  delivery  of  certain  passages,  but  they  appeared  to 
me  to  be  rather  the  refinement  of  critical  research,  than  the  sympa- 
thetic ardour  of  congenial  feelings  with  the  author.  I  sat  on  the 
third  row  of  the  pit,  close  to  my  old  friend  Peregrine  Phillips,  the 
father  of  Mrs.  Crouch.  Phillips  was  enthusiastic  in  his  admiration 
and  applause,  upon  every  expression  and  attitude  of  Kemble,  even 

*  My  late  worthy  friend  Michael  Kelly,  in  his  pleasant  Reminiscences,  says,  that 
on  the  first  night  of  this  play  he  went  behind  the  scenes,  and  was  introduced  to  the 
author;  but  the  introduction  must  have  been  on  another  occasion,  as  the  author  did 
not  return  to  England  till  a  year  or  two  after  the  representation,  as  I  have  above 
.stated. 


82 


RECORDS  OP  MY  UFE. 


to  a  fatiguing  excess.  When  Kemble  had  dismissed  one  of  the  court 
spies  sent  to  watch  him,  and  kept  back  the  other,  Phillips  exclaimed, 
"  Oh  !  fine,  fine."  "  It  may  be  very  fine,"  said  I,  u  but  what  does  it 
mean,  my  friend  V*  "  Oh  !"  he  answered,  "  I  know  not  what  it 
means,  but  it  is  fine  and  grand."  The  enthusiasm  of  my  old  friend 
may  be  accounted  for  from  a  report  which  prevailed  at  the  time. 
Miss  Phillips,  his  daughter,  was  very  beautiful,  and  it  was  said  that 
while  Mr.  Kemble  was  at  Liverpool,  immediately  preceding  his 
engagement  in  London,  it  had  appeared  as  if  a  marriage  between 
them  were  approaching,  and  the  father  was,  therefore,  naturally 
strenuous  in  supporting  his  expected  son-in-law.  However,  the 
match,  if  ever  intended,  did  not  take  place,  and  Phillips,  1  suppose, 
felt  an  abatement  of  his  admiration  of  the  actor. 

I  knew  Miss  Phillips  before  she  appeared  on  the  stage,  and  a  more 
beautiful  and  interesting  girl,  then  about  fifteen,  I  have  never  since 
known.  I  continued  my  acquaintance  with  her  till  her  death,  and 
whatever  might  be  the  events  of  her  life,  I  had  never  any  reason  to 
alter  my  opinion  of  her  intrinsic  worth.  She  was  a  very  pleasing 
actress,  and  sung  with  pathos  and  effect.  Her  merit  in  the  part 
which  she  performed  in  the  comedy  of  11  The  Heiress,"  and  in  my 
excellent  friend  Prince  Hoare's  humorous  afterpiece,  "  No  Song  no 
Supper,"  was  all  that  criticism  could  require. 

I  was,  at  first,  so  little  an  admirer  of  John  Kemble's  performance 
of  "  Hamlet,"  that  considering  it  stifT,  conceited,  and  unnatural,  I 
wrote  four  epigrams  in  ironical  commendation  of  it,  and  inserted 
them  together  in  a  public  print  which  I  then  conducted.  The  late 
Mr.  Francis  Twiss,  who  took  a  strong  interest  in  the  welfare  of  Mr. 
Kemble,  introduced  me  to  him  in  the  lobby  of  Drury-lane  Theatre. 
I  had  just  before  seen  him  point  Kemble's  notice  to  me,  and  heard 
him  whisper  the  word  epigrams :  I  was,  therefore,  not  prepared  for 
the  unaffected  civility  with  which  he  addressed  me.  We  imme- 
diately fell  into  conversation,  and  I  remember  that  Mr.  Kemble  very 
soon  began  a  defence  of  declamation,  stating  it  as  originally  consti- 
tuting one  of  the  chief  features  of  theatrical  excellence  on  the 
Grecian  stage ;  whence,  on  reflection,  I  inferred  that  he  thought  I 
was  disposed  to  require  too  much  of  the  manners  of  familiar  life  in 
dramatic  representations.  From  that  time  we  often  met  in  company, 
became  well  acquainted,  and,  judging  from  myself,  our  intercourse 
gradually  ripened  into  what  is  commonly  denominated  friendship. 
I  am  convinced  that  if  he  had  been  born  to  affluence,  and  in  a  higher 
station,  he  would  have  been  a  distinguished  character  in  poliiical  life. 
He  had  suffered  the  privations  naturally  incidental  to  a  connexion 
with  a  provincial  theatre  ;  but  when  he  rose  to  reputation  and  fortune 
in  the  metropolis,  he  acted  with  a  spirit  and  liberality  that  seemed  as 
if  he  were  "  to  the  manner  born." 

The  late  Mr.  William  Lewis,  himself  an  excellent  comic  actor  and 
a  shrewd  judge  of  theatrical  merit,  told  me  that  as  he  once  passed 
through  an  obscure  town  in  Yorkshire,  to  perform  as  "  a  star"  he  saw 
John  Kemble  in  the  part  of  "  Lovewell ,"  in  "  The  Clandestine 


JOHN  KEMBLE, 


83 


Marriage,"  ill-dressed  for  the  character,  with  antiquated  finery,  un- 
suitable to  a  merchant's  clerk,  and  with  black  unpowdered  hair  ;  yet, 
notwithstanding  the  stiffness  of  his  deportment,  he  displayed  so  much 
good  sense  and  judgment,  that  Mr.  Lewis  assured  me  he  silently 
predicted  Mr.  Kemble  would  rise  into  theatrical  distinction. 

Mr.  Kemble's  classical  and  general  knowledge,  and  the  courtesy  of 
his  manners,  as  well  as  his  improving  theatrical  powers,  soon  pro- 
cured him  high  and  extensive  connexions.  He  kept  a  hospitable  and 
elegant  table.  He  gave  a  liberal  premium  with  one  of  his  nephews 
to  an  eminent  artist,  and  an  equal  sum  with  another  to  a  solicitor. 
When  the  late  Mr.  Francis  Twiss  had  compiled  an  index  to  Shak- 
speare,  a  work  of  marvellous  industry  and  labour,  and,  of  course, ' 
valuable  to  the  admirers  of  the  great  bard,  but  was  not  willing  to 
hazard  the  expense  of  publication,  Mr.  Kemble,  with  the  zeal  of 
friendship,  and  admiration  of  the  poet,  determined  that  so  interesting 
a  work  should  not  be  buried  in  obscurity,  and  engaged  with  the  book- 
seller at  his  own  risk.  He  however  instituted  a  subscription  among 
his  friends  at  two  guineas  for  each  copy ;  but  though,  no  doubt,  he 
collected  a  considerable  sum,  it  was  probably  by  no  means  sufficient 
to  indemnify  him  for  the  expense  of  a  publication  of  so  very  arduous 
and  complicated  a  description.  I  hardly  need  add,  that  I  became 
one  of  the  earliest  subscribers.  A  great  part  of  this  laborious  work, 
which,  most  probably,  will  never  be  reprinted,  was  destroyed  by  an 
accidental  fire,  so  that  the  remaining  copies  have  been  much  ad- 
vanced in  price. 

I  was  in  the  habit  of  constantly  visiting  Mr.  Kemble  on  a  Sunday 
morning  for  many  years,  and  if  I  saw  him  in  the  intermediate  days, 
he  always  said,  "  Taylor,  remember  the  hebdomadal."  I  found  him 
generally  with  some  book  or  manuscript  before  him  relative  to  his 
art.  Sometimes  he  was  cold,  negligent,  and  less  courteous  than  at 
others,  and  then  feeling  disgusted,  I  resolved  to  forbear  my  visit  the 
next  week,  but  the  pleasure  I  always  found  in  his  company  overcame 
my  temporary  spleen.  He  was  fond  of  Dryden,  and  sometimes  read 
to  me  passages  from  that  admirable  poet.  I  do  not  think  he  was  a 
good  reader,  for  he  generally  read  in  a  tone  either  too  low  or  too 
high.  There  is  obviously  but  one  tone  in  reading  or  acting  that 
excites  the  sympathy  of  the  hearer,  and  that  is  the  tone  which  feeling 
suggests  and  expresses  ;  and  such  was  the  charm  of  Garrick,  which 
rendered  his  acting  in  tragedy  or  comedy  impressive  in  the  highest 
degree.*  There  were  many  of  Kemble's  visiters  who  made  court 
to  him  by  telling  him  of  faults  in  Garrick's  acting,  or  of  the  unsuit- 
ableness  of  his  person  for  some  of  the  characters  which  he  repre- 
sented ;  for  instance,  Sir  Charles  Thompson,  afterwards  Hotham,  a 
respectable  old  baronet,  told  Kemble  that  Garrick  always  gave  him 
the  idea  of  a  little  butler.    Kemble  generally  told  me  what  was  said 

*  Dr.  Wolcot  used  to  read  his  own  compositions,  and  the  comic  productions  of 
others,  with  admirable  ease,  humour,  and  spirit,  but  he  read  all  grave  poems  with  a 
kind  of  ludicrous  quaintness  and  familiarity.  He  was,  however,  a  sound  critic  on 
other  readers.   .  . 


•84 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


to  him  of  this  kind,  not  as  appearing  to  believe  such  remarks,  but  to 
know  whether  they  received  a  confirmation  from  me.  On  such 
occasions,  I  never  abated  in  my  reverence  for  Garrick,  but  always 
discountenanced  such  insidious  flattery,  and  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection and  ability,  asserted  the  wonderful  powers  of  the  departed 
actor.  Kemble  always  listened  to  my  panegyric  on  his  great  prede- 
cessor with  apparent  conviction,  but  I  cannot  help  believing  that  he 
would  have  liked  me  much  better  if  I  had  never  seen  Garrick. 

Kemble,  with  all  his  professional  judgment,  skill,  and  experience, 
like  all  other  mortals,  was  sometimes  induced  to  mistake  the  natural 
direction  of  his  powers,  and  to  suppose  that  he  was  as  much  patron- 
ized by  the  comic  as  by  the  tragic  muse.  When  I  called  on  him 
one  morning,  he  was  sitting  in  his  great  chair  with  his  nightcap  on, 
and,  as  he  told  me,  cased  in  flannel.  Immediately  after  the  cus- 
tomary salutation,  he  said,  *  Taylor,  I  am  studying  a  new  part  in  a 
popular  corned}',  and  I  should  like  to  know  your  opinion  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  I  am  likely  to  perform  it."  *  "  As  you  tell  me  it  is 
a  comic  part,"  said  I,  "  I  presume  it  is  what  you  style  intellectual 
comedy,  such  as  the  chief  characters  in  Congreve,  Wycherley,  and 
Vanburgh."  "What  do  you  think,"  said  he,  "of  Charles,  in  the 
4  School  for  Scandal?'"  "Why,"  said  I,  "Charles  is  a  gay,  free, 
spirited,  convivial  fellow."  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  but  Charles  is  a  gentle- 
man." He  tried  the  part,  but  his  gayety  did  not  seem  to  the  town  to  be 
of  "  the  right  flavour."  It  was  said  by  one  of  Mr.  Kemble's  favourite 
critics  in  a  public  print,  that  his  performance  was  "Charles's  restora- 
tion," and  by  another,  that  it  was  rather  "  Charles's  martyrdom." 

Another  time  he  attempted  a  jovial,  rakish  character  in  one  of 
Mrs.  Behn's  licentious  comedies,  from  which,  however,  he  expunged 
all  the  offensive  passages ;  but  he  was  not  successful.*  I  met  him  one 
day  as  I  was  hurrying  home  to  dress  for  dinner  abroad,  and  he 
strongly  pressed  me  to  go  and  dine  with  him,  alleging  that  as  Pop 
(Mrs.  Kemble)  was  out  of  town,  he  should  be  lonely  and  dull.  I 
told  him  I  was  positively  engaged,  and  should  hardly  be  in  time. 
"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  I'll  go  home  and  study  a  pantomime."    It  is 

*  Kemble  certainly  believed  that  he  possessed  comic  talents,  and  as  far  as  a  strong- 
sense  of  humour  and  a  disposition  to  enjoy  jocularity  could  tend  to  excite  such  a 
conviction,  lie  might  naturally  yield  to  self-deception.  My  lively  friend  George 
Colman,  whose  exuberant  gayety  spares  nobody,  and  to  whose  satirical  turn  I  have 
often  been  a  witness  and  a  victim,  being  asked  his  opinion  of  Kemble's  "  Don  Felix," 
said  that  it  displayed  too  much  of  the  Don  and  too  little  of  the  Felix.  Kemble 
could  bear  jocular  remarks  on  his  acting  with  unaffected  good-humour.  I  remem- 
ber that  after  we  became  tolerably  well  acquainted,  and  were  one  day  talking  on  the 
subject  of  his  Hamlet,  I  perhaps  too  freely  said,  M  Come,  Kemble,  I'll  give  an 
imitation  of  your  Hamlet."  **  I'll  be  glad,"  said  he,  "  to  improve  by  the  reflec- 
tion." 1  then  raised  my  right  hand  over  my  forehead,  as  connoisseurs  do  when 
looking  at  a  picture,  and  looking  intently  as  if  some  object  was  actually  before  me, 
and  referring  to  the  platform  scene,  exclaimed,  "  My  father,"  and  then  bending  my 
hand  into  the  form  of  an  opera-glass,  and  peeping  through  it,  continued,  "  Methinks 
I  see  my  father."  He  took  this  freedom  in  good  part,  and  only  said,  "Why, 
Taylor,  I  never  used  such  an  action."  "  No,"  said  I,  "  but  from  your  first  action 
everybody  expected  that  the  other  would  follow."  Whenever  he  spoke  of  his  great 
predecessor,  he  never  failed  to  say  "Mr.  Garrick." 


JOHN  KEMBLE. 


85 


liardly  possible  to  conceive  so  grave  a  character  contemplating  new 
tricks  and  escapes  for  harlequin,  and  blunders  for  the  clown. 

He  had  determined  to  act  Falstaff,  and  I  was  in  the  green-room  at 
Covent  Garden  theatre  one  Saturday,  when,  after  his  performance  of 
some  character  which  I  do  not  recollect,  three  beards  were  brought 
to  him,  that  he  might  choose  one  for  Falstaff.  We  were  invited  to 
<line  the  next  day  with  the  late  Dr.  Charles  Burney,  rector  of  Dept- 
ford.  Kemble  took  me  in  his  chariot,  and  we  talked  on  the  road  of 
his  intended  Falstaff.  He  said  that  he  had  resolved  to  attempt  the 
part,  but  was  afraid  that  when  "  he  came  to  the  point  his  heart  would 
fail  him."  A  ludicrous  incident  happened  at  this  dinner.  The  doctor, 
in  helping  Kemble  to  part  of  a  pudding,  gave  him  a  very  large  portion, 
which  induced  me  to  say,  "  Burney,  you  do  not  observe  Kemble's 
rule  in  your  ample  allotment  to  him."  u  What  is  that  ?"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "  Why,"  said  I, "  when  I  last  dined  with  him,  I  was  as  lavish  as 
you  in  distributing  a  similar  dish.  Kemble  said, 4  Taylor,  don't  help 
so  much  to  an  individual,  for  if  you  do  it  will  not  go  round  the  table/  " 
Being  somewhat  in  the  habit  of  imitating  Kemble,  I  spoke  these  words 
in  his  manner,  forgetting  that  he  was  before  me.  "  Now,"  said  Kem- 
ble, ""he  thinks  he  is  imitating  me — I  appeal  to  the  lady ;"  and  these 
words  he  delivered  so  much  in  the  manner  which  1  had  assumed,  that 
Mrs.  Burney  and  the  doctor  could  not  help  laughing,  Kemble  gave 
way  to  the  same  impulse,  and  I  was  relieved  from  embarrassment. 

I  was  one  night  in  a  box  with  him  when  the  theatre  was  illumina- 
ted preparatory  to  the  opening  for  the  season,  and  a  Mr.  Rees  was 
employed  to  give  imitations,  in  order  to  try  the  effect  of  the  voice. 
Kemble  was  one  of  the  persons  imitated,  and  while  the  man  was  de- 
livering an  imitation  of  him,  Kemble,  in  little  above  a  whisper,  knock- 
ing his  stick  on  the  ground,  said,  with  perfect  good-humour,  "  Speak 
louder,  you  rascal,  speak  louder."  The  man  did  not  hear,  nor  did 
Kemble  intend  he  should. 

Before  the  return  of  Mrs.  Kemble  from  the  country,  I  dined  with 
him  one  day  tete-u-tete,  and  a  very  pleasant  evening  I  passed.  I  sub- 
mitted to  him  my  tale  of  Frank  Hayman,  on  w7hich  he  made  some  judi- 
cious corrections  in  writing,  on  the  spot,  and  afterward  read  to  me 
his  translation  of  Ovid's  epistle  from  GEnone  to  Paris,  which,  so  far  as 
I  could  judge  by  mere  recitation,  was  rendered  with  poetic  spirit  and 
beauty.  He  told  me  that  he  intended  to  publish  it,  with  graphic  illus- 
trations by  his  friend  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  it  was  not  published,  as  it  would  do  honour  to  his  memory.  He 
held  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  in  the  highest  esteem  and  friendship,  and 
these  feelings  were  evidently  returned  in  full  measure  by  the  great 
artist,  as  by  the  many  portraits  which  he  painted  of  Mr.  Kemble,  it  is 
obvious  that  his  time  and  talents  might  have  been  employed  to  much 
pecuniary  advantage,  while  they  were  thus  devoted  to  friendship.  I 
believe  no  friendship  which  history  has  recorded,  was  more  sincere 
and  warm  than  that  between  the  great  painter  and  the  great  actor,— 
both  with  minds  well  stored,  both  men  of  correct  taste  and  polished 
.manners.  ' 

E 


so 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Kemble  possessed  a  high  and  manly  spirit.  He  was  involved? 
in  a  duel  with  Mr.  Daly,  the  manager  of  the  Dublin  theatre,  before  he 
first  came  to  London  ;  and  another  with  Mr.  James  Aikin,  a  respect- 
able actor  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  when  Mr.  Kemble  was  manager. 
Aikin,  though  a  sensible  and  worthy  man,  was  irritable  and  obstinate. 
Mr.  Kemble  might  easily  have  avoided  the  last  duel,  but  would  not 
suffer  his  spirit  to  be  called  in  question. 

The  late  Hon.  Mr.  St.  John  had  written  a  tragedy  entitled  "Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,"  which  he  had  submitted  to  the  Drury-lane  manager, 
and  which  had  been  accepted  for  representation ;  but  the  anxiety  of 
the  author  induced  him  to  complain  of  delay  in  bringing  it  before  the 
public.  Some  hasty  words  passed  in  the  green-room  on  the  occasion 
between  him  and  Mr.  Kemble.  At  length,  in  the  irritation  of  literary 
vanity  and  aristocratic  pride,  he  told  Mr.  Kemble  that  he  was  a  man 
whom  "  he  could  not  call  out."  Mr.  Kemble  answered  with  perfect 
coolness,  "  But.  you  are  a  man  whom  I  can  turn  out,  and  therefore  I 
desire  you  will  leave  this  place  immediately."  Mr.  St.  John  prudently 
retired,  but,  reflecting  on  the  insult  which  he  had  offered  to  a  scholar 
and  a  gentleman,  soon  returned  and  made  an  apology,  which  restored 
good-humour,  and  the  play  was  soon  afterward  represented,  but  not 
with  much  success. 

It  was  a  common  trick  with  Tickel,  when  supping  at  a  coffee-house 
w  ith  a  friend,  to  quit  the  room  upon  some  pretence  for  a  few  moments, 
and  leave  the  friend  to  pay  the  reckoning.  I  met  him  and  Joe  Rich- 
ardson one  night  in  the  Piazza  at  Covent  Garden,  and  they  insisted 
on  my  going  with  them  into  the  coffee-house  to  take  a  few  oysters.  I 
readily  complied,  but  reflecting  that  I  had  only  a  few  shillings  in  my 
pocket,  and  fully  aware  of  Tickel's  practice,  I  kept  watch  over  him, 
that  I  might  run  no  hazard.  At  length,  remaining  till  a  very  late  hour, 
as  might  naturally  be  expected  with  men  of  such  talents,  I  desired  my 
friend  Richardson  to  pay  my  share,  and  retreated.  This  habit  was 
certainly  not  the  effect  of  meanness  or  of  parsimony  in  Tickel,  but  of 
a  waggish  humour,  by  which  I  should  assuredly  have  suffered,  as  it 
would  have  been  an  additional  pleasure  to  play  it  off  on  a  novice. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  the  characters  both  of  Tickel  and  Sher- 
idan. It  was  supposed  by  some  of  their  friends,  though  not  of  the 
most  discerning,  that  Sheridan  was  jealous  of  the  conversational 
powers  of  Tickel.  If  there  really  was  any  jealousy  between  them, 
which  I  sincerely  hope  was  not  the  case,  as  they  were  originally  warm 
friends,  besides  being  connected  by  marrying  two  amiable  sisters,  the 
jealousy  was  more  likely  to  be  on  the  side  of  Tickel,  as  he  had  failed 
in  an  opera,  entitled  "  The  Carnival  of  Venice,"  and  Sheridan  had 
been  successful  in  all  his  dramatic  pieces,  which  are  styled  what  are 
called  stock- plays,  and  had,  moreover,  become  one  of  the  chief  national 
characters  as  an  orator  and  a  politician.  Besides,  Sheridan's  poetical 
genius  was  of  a  higher  cast,  as  evinced  in  his  "  Monody  on  the  death 
of  Garrick,"  and  his  admirable  prologues  and  epilogues,  which  are 
equal  to  any  in  our  language.  It  is  not,  however,  to  be  inferred,  that 
though  Sheridan's  powers  were  of  a  superior  order,  Tickel  was  no! 


TICKKL  AND  SHEJUDAPf. 


87 


possessed  of  considerable  talents, — in  fact,  that  he  was  not  a  man  of 
genius.  He  displayed  great  wit,  humour,  and  an  appropriate  delinea- 
tion and  characteristic  diversity  of  character  in  his  44  Anticipation," 
and  poetical  spirit  in  his"  Wreath  of  Fashion,"  and  more  in  his ''Charles 
Fox,  partridge-shooting,  to  John  Townshend,  cruising."  He  was  pe- 
culiarly spirited  and  entertaining  in  conversation. 

A  whimsical  circumstance,  exemplifying  this  last  quality,  occurred 
during  a  short  visit  which  he  paid  at  Oxford,  to  the  head  of  one  of  the 
colleges.  Dining  in  the  common  room,  and  happening  to  be  more 
than  ordinarily  facetious,  a  very  old  member  of  the  university,  whose 
mind  had  been  impaired  by  study  and  time,  and  who  was  very  deaf, 
observing  the  effect  of  his  lively  sallies  on  the  company,  and  hearing 
that  his  name  was  Tickel,  asked  the  gentleman  who  sat  next  to  him,, 
and  who  was  a  wag,  whether  that  was  the  Mr.  Tickel  who  had  been 
the  friend  of  Mr.  Addison.  The  gentleman  told  him  it  was  the  same 
person.  The  old  member  then  expressed  great  regret  that  he  i  at  at 
such  a  distance,  and  was  too  deaf  to  hear  the  brilliant  effusions  of  Mr. 
TickePs  genius,  particularly,  too,  as  he  might  also  hear  some  original 
anecdotes  of  his  immortal  friend  the  author  of 44  Cato."  The  wag,  to 
console  him,  promised  that  whenever  Mr.  Tickel  uttered  any  thing 
of  striking  humour,  on  told  an  interesting  anecdote,  he  would  relate  it 
to  hrm.  The  wag  gave  a  hint  to  the  company,  most  of  whom  hap- 
pened to  be  as  sportive  as  himself,  of  the  old  member's  misconception 
in  taking  the  Mr.  Tickel  present  for  his  grandfather,  and  promised 
themselves  much  entertainment  from  the  mistake.  Tickel  exerted 
himself  with  great  gayety  to  exhibit  his  genius  and  learning,  and  the 
old  member  was  quite  agog  to  hear  what  passed.  Whenever  a  laugh 
was  excited  by  what  Tickel  said,  the  old  gentleman  resorted  to  his 
waggish  friend  to  know  what  he  had  heard.  The  wag  either  invented 
a  bon  mot,  or  told  a  ludicrous  incident,  which,  perhaps,  delighted  the 
former  even  more  than  if  he  had  heard  Ticket's  real  effusion.  This 
whimsical  entertainment  continued  till  the  humour  was  no  longer 
diverting  to  the  party  ;  and  the  object  of  this  hardly  allowable  jocu- 
larity retired,  proud  that  he  had  been  in  company  with  the  friend  of 
Mr.  Addison,  but  lamenting  that  he  could  only  profit  by  his  wit  and 
humour  at  second-hand. 

Tickel,  though  such  I  believe  was  not  the  case,  might  envy  the  su- 
perior genius  of  Sheridan,  but  the  latter  had  no  reason  to  be  envious 
of  Tickel.  Tickel  had  more  of  vanity,  Sheridan  more  of  pride. 
Tickel  was  perpetually  gay  and  ambitious  to  shine  in  society ;  he  was 
therefore  always  on  the  watch  for  some  opportunity  of  making  a 
brilliant  sally,  and  often  succeeded.  Sheridan  was  contented  to  be 
easy  and  observing,  and  quietly  waited  till  the  stream  of  conversation 
should  bear  something  worthy  of  his  notice,  and  give  occasion  for  some 
appropriate  anecdote  or  sarcastic  observation.  In  telling  a  story, 
Sheridan's  terms  were  selected  with  so  much  judgment  that  the  sub- 
stance and  point  came  forth  with  full  effect,  and  admitted  of  no  addi- 
tion or  embellishment,  and  his  satirical  strokes  were  shrewd,  pointed, 
and  evinced  a  very  unfavourable  opinion  of  mankind.    In  relating  an 

E2 


83 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


anecdote,  Tickel  was  too  apt  to  decorate  it  with  a  flourishing  luxuri- 
ance, and  to  look  round  to  observe  its  effect  on  the  company.  Sher- 
idan seemed  only  intent  on  telling  the  plain  matter  of  fact,  and  gen- 
erally addressed  himself  to  an  individual.  Tickel  seemed  desirous  of 
impressing  the  person  whom  he  addressed  with  a  sense  of  his  spright- 
liness  and  fancy.  Sheridan,  when  he  spoke  to  a  mere  stranger  in 
company,  spoke  in  a  kind  of  confidential  manner,  that  disarmed  all  awk- 
ward feeling,  and  excited  an  idea  in  the  hearer  that  he  was  deemed 
worthy  of  conversation  and  confidence.  This  air  of  confidence  on 
the  part  of  Sheridan  rendered  his  manner  irresistible.  There  had  cer- 
tainly been  some  difference  between  Sheridan  and  Tickel,  which 
even  the  death  of  the  latter  had  not  subdued  in  the  mind  of  the  for- 
mer ;  for,  on  their  return  from  Richardson's  funeral,  at  which  I  was 
present,  Sheridan  behaved  in  a  manner  that  indicated  the  decline  of 
friendship  between  them. 

Tickel  could  not  but  have  been  happy  in  his  first  marriage  with  an 
accomplished  branch  of  the  Linley  family,  a  family  distinguished  for 
talents  ;  but  he  was  certainly  not  so  in  his  second.  The  lady  was  a 
beauty,  and  brought  some  fortune.  They  kept  a  coach,  an  extrava- 
gance which  her  fortune  and  his  income  as  a  commissioner  of  the 
Stamp-oflice  could  not  support.  His  wife  expected  him  to  be  con- 
stantly with  her,  and  when  he  wanted  to  take  a  walk  with  a  friend, 
she  importuned  him  to  ride  in  the  coach  with  her.  At  length  he  be- 
came embarrassed  in  his  affairs  and  desponding  in  his  temper,  and  he 
who  was  once  all  vivacity,  sank  into  melancholy  and  dejection,  inso- 
much as  to  render  it  doubtful  whether  his  falling  from  the  parapet  at 
Hampton  Court  Palace  was  wholly  accidental. 

It  is  a  melancholy  consideration,  that  almost  immediately  after  his 
death,  a  near  relation,  who  had  been  apprized  of  his  desponding  state, 
came  with  ample  means  to  relieve  him  from  all  his  necessities.  His 
chief  production  was  the  popular  pamphlet  entitled  "  Anticipation,"  in 
which  he  characterized  with  admirable  ingenuity  and  humour  the  more 
conspicuous  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  at  that  period.  It 
was  generally  supposed  that  he  derived  considerable  advantage  from 
the  hints  of  Lord  North,  who  possessed  great  wit  and  humour. 

The  second  Mrs.  Tickel,  it  is  said,  found  a  less  indulgent  husband 
in  her  second  marriage,  and  sank  into  a  despondency  like  that  which 
attended  the  last  days  of  her  former  partner.  A  beautiful  whole-length 
drawing  of  her  was  made  by  my  late  friend  Cosway,  with  all  the  taste 
and  spirit  which  distinguished  his  works  in  miniature,  from  which  there 
was  a  correct  engraving.  This  lady  was  the  daughter  of  a  captain 
in  the  East  India  Company's  marine,  in  which  service  he  had  amassed 
about  twenty  thousand  pounds ;  but,  being  afraid  to  vest  it  in  any  public 
securities,  he  lived  upon  the  capital,  which  gave  Tickel  little  hopes  of 
deriving  much  from  the  death  of  his  father-in-law,  and  probably  aug- 
mented that  dejection  which  occasioned  the  termination  of  his  life. 


REV.  WILLIAM  PETERS. 


89 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Rev.  William  Peters.  With  this  gentleman  I  was  acquainted 
in  my  early  days.  I  was  introduced  to  him  by  the  Rev.  Richard 
Pinnock,  rector  of  Abinger  in  Surrey,  and  of  St.  John's,  Bermondsey. 
He  was  also  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of  Godolphin,  and  one  of  the  officers 
of  the  British  Museum.  He  was*  an  irritable  but  an  honourable 
man ;  a  good  classical  and  French  scholar.  He  had  a  turn  for  humour 
and  poetry.  Whenever  I  received  an  invitation  to  dine  with  him,  it 
was  generally  conveyed  in  rhyme.  He  lived  to  a  very  advanced  age, 
and  I  joined  in  the  melancholy  duty  of  attending  his  funeral,  with 
the  present  Sir  John  St.  Aubin,  Bart.,  and  the  late  Mr.  Planta,  then 
chief  officer  of  the  British  Museum. 

I  knew  Mr.  Peters  had  entered  into  the  church.  As  an  artist,  he 
had  gained  considerable  reputation  in  portrait-painting.  After  he 
became  a  clergyman,  he  resigned  his  situation  as  a  royal  academician, 
conceiving  that  it  would  be  unsuitable  to  his  clerical  function ;  but 
on  his  resignation,  he  was  appointed  chaplain  to  the  Royal  Academy, 
which,  though  a  mere  nominal  office,  evinced  the  respect  of  the 
president,  the  late  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  of  the  council  of  that 
institution. 

Mr.  Peters  told  me,  that  besides  the  propriety  of  resigning  his 
academical  honour,  he  was  induced  to  relinquish  his  profession  of  an 
artist  by  the  following  circumstance:  A  lady  of  quality  having 
requested  he  would  recommend  her  to  a  good  landscape-painter,  as 
she  wanted  a  couple  of  pictures  of  that  description,  he  replied,  that 
considering  Richard  Wilson  as  the  best  painter  of  landscapes,  he 
recommended  him.  The  lady  then  desired  that  he  would  accompany 
her  to  the  painter's  house.  He  accordingly  went  with  her,  and  found 
the  artist  at  home.  The  lady  desired  to  see  some  specimens  of  his 
skill,  and  Wilson  had  luckily  not  sent  home  two  pictures  which  he 
had  just  finished,  and  brought  them  to  her.  Peters  said  he  was  afraid 
that  Wilson's  bold  style  and  rough  colouring  would  not  be  suitable  to 
female  taste,  and  that  the  lady  would  not  be  duly  impressed  with  the 
grandeur  of  his  conceptions,  that  he,  therefore,  placed  them  at  some 
distance,  in  order  to  make  them  appear  to  more  advantage.  The 
lady,  however,  happened  to  be  struck  with  them,  and  gave  him  a 
commission  to  paint  two  landscapes,  at  a  liberal  price,  on  subjects 
chosen  by  himself.  As  Peters  was  going  to  hand  the  lady  into  her 
carriage,  not  intending  to  return  with  her,  Wilson  whispered  that  he 
wanted  to  speak  to  him.  Peters,  of  course,  returned  with  him. 
Wilson,  after  thanking  him  warmly  for  his  kind  recommendation,  told 
him  he  was  so  distressed,  that  if  Peters  would  not  lend  him  ten 
guineas,  he  could  not  fulfil  the  order,  as  he  had  no  money  to  buy 
colours  or  canvass.    Peters  promised  he  would  send  the  money  to 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


him  as  soon  as  he  reached  home.  Peters  assured  me  that  the  dis- 
tress of  this  great  artist  produced  a  strong  effect  upon  his  mind  ;  for 
if  Wilson,  who  was  decidedly  the  best  painter  in  his  province  of  art, 
was  so  reduced,  what  must  he  expect  who  had  so  many  rivals  of 
distinguished  talent  in  the  line  of  portrait? 

Peters  after  this  began  to  prepare  himself  for  the  church,  and 
<entered  his  name  at  one  of  the  colleges  at  Oxford.  In  this  univer- 
sity he  became  acquainted  with  the  late  Mr.  William  Gifford,  whose 
translations  of"  Juvenal"  and  u  Persius"  prove  his  learning  and  poeti- 
cal vigour,  and  whose  editions  of  the  works  of  Massinger,  of  Ben 
Jonson,  and  of  Ford,  may  fairly  rank  him  as  the  best  dramatic  critic 
in  our  language.  Mr.  Peters,  no  doubt,  improved  his  classical  know- 
ledge, and  prepared  himself  for  the  sacred  calling  by  the  assistance 
of  Mr.  Gifford.  Mr.  Peters  and  Mr.  Gifford  remained  in  intimacy 
and  friendship  for  some  years,  but,  as  Dryden  says, 

"  All  human  things  are  subject  to  decay 

and,  unhappily,  friendship  is  founded  on  the  same  uncertain  tenure. 
At  length  these  friends  became  bitter  enemies  ;  but  before  this  melan- 
choly event  took  place,  I  dined  with  Mr.  Peters  at  a  house  in  Mill- 
bank,  which  belonged  to  the  late  Lord  Grosvenor,  and  in  which  his 
lordship  permitted  him  to  reside.  On  this  occasion  I  first  met  Mr. 
Gifford,  to  whom  Mr.  Peters  had  expressed  a  desire  to  introduce  me. 
What  was  the  immediate  cause  of  the  dissension  between  these  old 
friends  I  never  heard,  but  their  hostility  to  each  other  was  of  the 
bitterest  kind. 

When  Peters  quitted  Oxford,  he  continued  to  correspond  with 
Gifford,  who  remained  there ;  and,  to  save  the  expense  of  postage, 
Peters  obtained  franks  from  Lord  Grosvenor  for  his  letters  to  Gifford, 
and  his  lordship  permitted  the  letters  of  Gifford  to  pass  under  cover 
to  his  lordship.  On  one  occasion  Gifford  forgot  to  seal  his  letter  to 
Peters,  and  Lord  Grosvenor  frankly  confessed  that  he  had  the  curiosity 
to  read  it.  His  lordship  was  so  struck  by  the  literary  merit  of  this 
letter,  that  he  thought  the  author  would  be  a  proper  travelling  tutor 
for  his  son,  the  present  Lord  Grosvenor.  He  therefore  desired 
Peters  to  invite  Gifford  to  London,  where  he  soon  received  an  invi- 
tation to  reside  at  his  lordship's  house,  in  Grosvenor-square.  Gifford 
was  shortly  appointed  tutor  to  Lord  Belgrave,  and  afterward  accom- 
panied his  noble  pupil  abroad. 

During  the  time  that  Peters  and  Gifford  remained  in  friendship,  the 
former  considered  the  unsealed  letter  as  an  accident,  but  when  they 
quarrelled,  he  represented  it  to  me  as  an  artifice,  by  which  Gifford 
thought  to  tempt  the  curiosity  of  Lord  Grosvenor.  He  had  taken,  it 
seems,  uncommon  pains  with  the  letter,  in  order,  as  Peters  alleged, 
to  make  a  forcible  impression  on  his  lordship,  and  his  plan  succeeded. 

Gilford  had  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  Hoppner  the  painter,  and 
had  introduced  him  at  Grosvenor  House.  This  circumstance,  no 
-doubt,  must  have  displeased  Peters,  who  knew  that  Hoppner  was  of 


REV.  W.  PETERS  AND  MR.  GIFFORD. 


91 


a  very  satirical  turn,  and  spared  nobody.  What  hastened  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  friendship  between  Peters  and  Gifford  I  know  not,  except 
that  Gifford  and  Hoppner,  as  Peters  said,  had  undermined  him  in  the 
estimation  of  Lord  Grosvenor,  and  forced  him  to  relinquish  his  con- 
nexion with  his  lordship.  At  length  there  wras  an  open  rupture 
between  the  former  friends. 

Gifford  was  accused  by  Peters  of  having,  in  a  public  newspaper, 
ridiculed  his  pictures  in  the  Royal  Academy  exhibition,  assisted  by  the 
professional  suggestions  of  Hoppner.  I  remember  to  have  read  a 
critique  of  this  description,  on  a  picture  of  Adam  and  Eve  in  Para- 
dise, which  wTas  remarkably  humorous  and  severe.  Mr.  Combe, 
who  was  a  friend  to  both  parties,  at  length  interfered  to  prevent 
further  hostilities,  but  failing,  he  signified  that  unless  Lord  Grosvenor 
put  a  stop  to  this  persecution  of  his  old  friend  Peters,  he  would  write 
an  heroic  epistle  to  Lord  Grosvenor  from  his  repudiated  lady.  As 
Mr.  Combe  wras  known  to  possess  a  powerful  pen,  and  wras  a  zealous 
friend  to  Peters,  this  intimation  was  conveyed  to  his  lordship,  who 
then  interposed,  and  requested  that  all  this  literary  warfare  should  end, 
and  from  that  time  they  were  contented  to  abuse  each  other  in  private. 

By  this  time  I  had  become  very  well  acquainted  with  Gifford,  and 
frequently  heard  the  complaints  of  both  parties.  It  was  curious  to 
find  that  their  accusations  against  each  other  were  exactly  the  same. 
They  each  charged  the  other  w  ith  mean  and  disgraceful  subserviency 
to  the  vices  of  Lord  Grosvenor.  It  is  certain  that  Peters,  before  he 
took  holy  orders,  and  probably  while  he  was  not  in  a  very  prosperous 
state,  painted  some  subjects  for  the  noble  lord  w  hich  wrere  far  from 
being  of  a  decorous  nature  ;  but  who  is  to  blame,  the  rich  man  who 
suggested  such  subjects,  or  the  poor  one  who  stood  in  need  of  his 
patronage  ?  I  have  often  heard  Peters  deeply  lament  that  he  ever 
devoted  his  talents  to  such  subjects,  not  only  because  they  were  de- 
grading to  his  character,  but,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  from  sincere 
moral  regret.  On  the  other  hand,  Peters  charged  Gifford  with  a  pli- 
ant subserviency  to  those  vices  of  his  patron  which  had  dictated  the 
subjects  in  question.  In  proof  of  this  charge  Peters  used  to  relate  a 
story,  which,  even  if  I  could  believe,  I  should  not  think  proper  to 
introduce  in  this  place.  , 

I  have  often,  though  with  caution,  sounded  both  as  to  the  possibility 
of  effecting  a  reconciliation,  but  found  it  a  hopeless  matter,  and 
therefore  never  acknowledged  to  either  that  I  had  seen  the  other, 
and  avoided  a  subject  which  was  mournful  and  disgusting. 

Mr.  Peters  being  troubled  with  asthma  for  some  years  before  his 
death,  was  obliged  to  sleep  in  the  country,  so  that  I  very  rarely  saw 
him  ;  but  soon  after  his  death  I  received  a  note  from  his  widow, 
requesting  I  would  call  on  her  in  town,  as  she  had  something  to  com- 
municatQ  to  me.  I  went  accordingly,  and  was  informed  by  her  that 
her  husband  had  left  me  a  legacy  of  fifty  guineas.  I  was  much  sur- 
prised at  this  bequest,  as  I  had  not  seen  Mr.  Peters  for  some  years, 
and  thought  he  had  forgotten  me.  His  legacy,  however,  was  a  proof 
of  his  friendly  feeling  towards  me,  which  had  not  lessened  by  absence. 


•2 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  John  Horne  Tooke.  I  was  acquainted  with  this  gentleman? 
many  years,  and  always  found  him  polite  and  good-humoured.  I  was 
first  introduced  to  him  when  he  resided  in  Richmond  Buildings,  by 
Mr.  Arthur  Murphy,  and  though  I  did  not  adopt  his  political  prin- 
ciples, he  was  too  agreeable,  and  too  instructive  a  companion  for  me 
not  to  cultivate  the  connexion.  He  told  me,  soon  after  I  became 
acquainted  with  him,  that  he  knew  who  Junius  was  at  the  time  of  his 
public  correspondence  with  him ;  and  when  I  expressed  my  surprise 
that  he  did  not  contrive  to  answer  his  formidable  assailant  in  a  private 
manner,  he  declared  he  became  acquainted  with  him  under  such  cir- 
cumstances of  honourable  secrecy,  that  it  would  have  been  treachery 
in  him  to  avow  his  knowledge.  In  his  correspondence  with  Wilkes, 
after  his  quarrel  with  him,  he  certainly  does  not  appear  to  much  epis- 
tolary advantage  in  comparison,  however  strong  might  be  his  facts,, 
and  however  cogent  his  arguments.  Wilkes's  answers  were  always 
playful,  'sprightly,  and  humorous.  It  does  not  appear  that  Wilkes 
provoked  him  to  the  attack,  but  Home  Tooke  was  too  discerning  a 
man  not  to  see  that  Wilkes  was  in  reality  a  patriot  for  his  own  inte- 
rest, not  for  that  of  the  public. 

Tooke  was  certainly  a  republican,  and  having  discovered  Wilkes's 
interested  views,  withdrew  all  confidence  from  him  and  became  his 
bitter  enemy.  Mr.  Tooke  once  advised  me,  whenever  I  said  any- 
thing that  I  wished  to  have  kept  secret,  never  to  say  it  in  the  presence 
of  a  third  person,  "  for  if,"  said  he,  "  there  were  only  one  person  pre- 
sent, and  he  were  to  betray  you,  you  might  deny  all  he  said,  and  the 
testimony  of  each  would  then  depend  upon  his  own  character;  and 
your  denial,  though  untrue,  would  be  a  just  punishment  on  your 
opponent  for  his  treachery." 

I  once  called  on  him  in  Richmond  Buildings,  with  Mr.  Merry  the 
poet,  just  as  the  latter  was  on  the  eve  of  being  married  to  Miss 
Brunton  the  actress.  In  the  course  of  conversation,  Mr.  Tooke  ad- 
verted to  this  intended  marriage,  and  directing  his  discourse  to  me, 
said,  "  I  told  this  gentleman  that  I  was  once  as  near  the  danger  of 
matrimony  as  he  is  at  present,  but  an  old  friend  to  whom  I  looked 
with  reverence  for  his  wisdom  and  experience,  gave  me  the  following 
advice.  '  You  must  first,'  said  he, 4  consider  the  person  of  the  lady,  and 
endeavour  to  satisfy  yourself  that  if  she  has  excited,  she  is  likely  to 
secure,  your  admiration.  You  must  deeply  scrutinize  her  mind,  reflect 
whether  she  possesses  a  rate  of  intellect  that  would  be  likely  to 
render  her  an  intelligent  companion ;  if  you  are  satisfied  she  does, 
you  are  to  examine  her  temper,  and  if  you  find  it  amiable,  and  not 
likely  to  irritate  your  own  on  any  occasion,  you  must  proceed  to  ob- 
tain all  the  information  you  can  procure  respecting  her  parents  and 
other  relatives ;  and  if  you  have  no  reason  to  object  to  their  being 
your  relations  and  companions,  you  must  then  inquire  who  and  what 
are  her  friends,  for  you  must  not  expect  her  to  sacrifice  all  her  old 
connexions  when  she  becomes  your  wife,  and  if  you  find  them  agree- 
able people,  and  not  likely  to  be  burdensome  or  intrusive,  and  are 
quite  satisfied  with  the  prospect,  you  may  then  order  your  wedding 


HORNE  TOOKE. 


93 


clothes,  and  fix  the  day  for  the  marriage.  When  the  bride  is  dressed 
suitable  to  the  occasion,  the  friends  at  church,  and  the  priest  ready  to 
begin,  you  should  get  upon  your  horse  and  ride  away  from  the  place  as 
fast  and  as  far  as  your  horse  could  carry  you.  This  counsel,"  added 
Mr.  Tooke,  "  from  one  who  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  world, 
made  me  investigate  the  nature  of  wedlock;  and  considering  the 
difficulties  attending  the  advice  which  he  recommended,  made  me 
resolve  never  to  enter  into  the  happy  state." 

This  counsel,  however,  had  no  effect  upon  Mr.  Merry,  who  soon 
after  married,  though  certainly  he  was  solicitous  to  avoid  the  match. 
Mr.  Tooke  however  was  a  man  of  gallantry.  He  had  two  amiabl  e 
daughters,  with  whom  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  in  comp  any, 
and  was  assured  by  the  late  Dr.  George  Pearson  that  they  were 
good  Latin  scholars.  He  had  also  a  son,  but  whose  conduct  he 
represented  as  so  different  from  that  of  his  daughters,  that  on  Mr. 
Merry  asking  what  had  become  of  him,  Mr.  Tooke  said  he  did  not 
know,  but  hoped  the  next  news  he  should  hear  of  him  would  be  that 
he  was  hanged. 

It  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  attempt  to  measure  the  mind 
of  Mr.  Home  Tooke,  but,  as  far  I  could  venture  to  judge,  he  com- 
bined logic  and  waggery  so  habitually,  that  he  wrould  not  have  been 
an  eloquent  parliamentary  orator ;  as  he  would  rather  have  endea- 
voured to  detect  and  ridicule  the  errors  and  inconsistencies  of  others 
than  have  proposed  any  thing  original  from  himself.  He  told  me  that 
when  he  attended  at  any  political  meetings  he  very  seldom  went  with 
an  intention  to  speak,  but  that  he  as  seldom  maintained  his  contem- 
plated silence.  I  remember  once,  and  only  once,  I  dined  with  the 
Revolutionary  Society,  instituted  in  a  great  measure  in  honour  of 
King  William  the  Third.  The  celebrated  Dr.  Price  was  the  chairman 
on  this  occasion,  and  Mr.  Home  Tooke  sat  next  to  him.  In  the  course 
of  the  day,  I  asked  the  latter  if  he  intended  to  address  the  company. 
He  said  "  No,  I  delight  in  the  anniversary  of  a  day  intended  to  cele- 
brate the  delivery  from  monarchical  despotism  and  bigotry,  and  resign 
myself  wholly  to  convivial  enjoyment."  I  ventured  to  hint  that 
something  would  occur  probably  which  would  draw  forth  his  public 
spirit,  and  so  it  happened  ;  for  in  about  an  hour  something  induced 
him  to  address  the  company,  when  he  was  answered  by  my  old 
friend,  now  Mr.  Baron  Garrow  :  I  have  totally  forgotten  the  subject 
of  their  brief  controversy,  but  I  remember  the  jocularity  of  both 
excited  merriment  through  the  room,  and  ended  in  good-humour. 

I  went  afterward  into  the  tea-room  with  Mr.  Tooke,  and  it  was 
there  he  suggested  to  me  the  cautious  policy  which  I  have  mentioned 
above.  I  believe  that  this  dinner  which  I  attended  was  the  last  time 
the  society  ever  assembled.  It  once,  however,  numbered  among  its 
members  some  of  the  most  respectable  whig  characters  in  the  coun- 
try, but  as  they  had  not  taken  leave  of  monarchical  principles,  when 
they  saw  the  dreadful  excesses  which  the  revolutionary  dogmas  of 
France  had  occasioned,  they  withdrew  from  the  society,  and  left  it  to 

E3 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


ihe  low  tavern  reformers,  who  never  attempted  to  muster  another 
meeting. 

It  has  been  said  that  when  Mr.  Tooke  was  conveyed  by  the  way 
of  Islington  into  custody  to  the  Tower,  he  looked  at  the  fields,  and, 
with  tears  in  eyes,  said — "  Ah  !  1  am  afraid  I  shall  see  you  no  more." 
These  words  are  so  repugnant  to  the  firm  and  decisive  temper  of 
his  mind,  that  it  is  impossible  for  those  who  knew  him  to  give  any 
credit  to  the  report. 

The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Horne  Tooke  was 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where  he  was  walking  with  his  daughters.  I 
joined  them,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  he  said,  "I  have  often 
invited  you  to  my  dinner-parties  on  Sundays,  at  Wimbledon,  but  I 
know  you  dare  not  come."  I  assured  him  that  I  expected  too  much 
pleasure  on  such  an  occasion  to  be  afraid  of  appearing  there,  and 
that  I  should  take  an  early  opportunity  of  accompanying  my  friend 
Dr.  Pearson  in  his  carriage.  Something  or  other,  however,  always- 
interfered,  and  I  never  attended  the  meetings.  Politics  must  of 
course  have  generally  been  "  the  order  of  the  day,"  as  Mr.  Tooke 
has  more  than  once  told  me  that  in  all  his  conversations,  and  in  all 
his  writings,  whatever  was  the  subject,  politics  were  sure  to  intrude. 
I  have  said  that  I  believe  he  was  a  republican,  and  I  think  the  follow- 
ing passage  from  one  of  his  letters  to  Junius  will  justify  the  suspicion, 
even  were  there  no  other  reasons  that  I  could  offer  in  support  of  it. 

"  The  right  divine  and  sacrcdness  of  kings  is  to  me  a  senseless 
jargon.  It  was  thought  a  daring  expression  of  Oliver  Cromwell, 
in  the  time  of  Charles  the  First,  that  if  he  found  himself  placed  op- 
posite to  the  king  in  battle,  he  would  discharge  his  piece  into  his 
bosom  as  soon  as  into  any  other  man's.  I  go  farther  ;  had  I  lived  in 
those  days,  I  would  not  have  waited  for  chance  to  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  my  duty ;  I  would  have  sought  him  through  the  ranks, 
and  without  the  least  personal  enmity,  have  discharged  my  piece  into 
his  bosom  rather  than  into  any  other  man's." 

My  late  friend  Mr.  Joseph  Richardson  told  me,  that,  generally, 
-after  a  certain  baronet  had  been  with  Mr.  Home  Tooke  for  a  few 
days,  he  returned  to  town  with  a  mind  so  heated  by  the  principles  of 
that  gentleman,  that  he  seemed  as  if  he  had  been  in  a  political  fur- 
nace ;  and  it  was  not  till  several  days  had  passed  that  Mr.  Fox  and 
his  other  political  associates  could  bring  him  again  within  the  sound 
influence  of  constitutional  whiggism.  They  however  held  in  great 
respect  the  understanding  and  political  principles  of  the  baronet,  and 
attributed  his  occasional  tendency  to  republican  notions  wholly  to  the 
reasonings  and  ingenious  sophistry  of  the  politician  of  Wimbledon. 

There  was  such  a  mixture  of  humour,  waggery,  ridicule,  archness, 
and  learning  in  the  character  of  Mr.  Tooke,  that  when  he  took  pains  to 
gain  proselytes  to  his  opinions,  he  was  generally  successful.  In  his 
controversy  with  Junius,  the  argument  was  certainly  in  his  favour,  but 
he  proved  much  inferior  in  literary  talents.  Junius  had  rashly  ad- 
vanced charges  against  Mr.  Horne  which  he  could  not  support,  and 
therefore  he  was,  of  course,  conquered  in  reasoning ;  but  the  humour 


JIORNE  TOOKE. 


95 


and  ingenuity  with  which  Junius  retreats  from  the  contest,  demon- 
strates the  superiority  of  his  literary  skill. 

The  two  poetical  quotations  which  Mr.  Home  introduced  into  his 
letter,  and  for  which  he  is  so  humorously  attacked  by  Junius,  are 
taken  from  the  works  of  Ben  Jonson,  as  the  late  Mr.  William  Gifford 
told  me,  but  I  have  never  thought  it  worth  while  to  trace  them  in  his 
plays.  That  admirable  artist,  Mr.  Westall,  related  to  me  a  circum- 
stance which  illustrates  the  logical  waggery  which  I  always  observed 
in  Mr.  Home  Tooke,  and  also  the  vehement  irritability  of  Dr.  Parr. 
He  said  that  he  was  in  company  with  these  distinguished  characters, 
and  witnessed  a  dispute  between  them.  Parr  was  vehement  and 
loudly  declamatory ;  Tooke  was  sportive  and  satirical.  Notwith- 
standing the  thundering  hostility  of  Parr,  Tooke  was  serene  and 
jocosely  bitter.  At  length  Parr  arose,  and  said,  "  If  I  had  entertained 
an  opinion  which  I  thought  founded  on  truth,  and  determined  never 
to  abandon — if  I  thought  that  your  opinion  was  the  same,  I  would 
immediately  renounce  it  with  detestation." 

If  Mr.  Home  Tooke  could  have  transferred  the  same  jocose 
severity  to  his  pen  which  was  so  conspicuous  and  successful  on  his 
tongue,  he  might  have  equalled  if  not  have  conquered  Junius,  in  wit 
as  well  as  in  argument. 

I  once  promised  myself  a  very  pleasant  and  instructive  day,  having 
invited  Mr.  Combe,  whom  I  have  before  mentioned,  and  Mr.  Home 
Tooke,  to  dine  with  me.  What  prevented  Mr.  Combe  from  coming  I 
do  not  recollect,  but  I  believe  that  a  total  difference  in  political  princi- 
ples with  Mr.  Home  Tooke  occasioned  his  reluctance  to  meet  him. 
Upon  general  topics,  Mr.  Combe  would  have  been  highly  entertain- 
ing, particularly  in  the  abundance  of  his  anecdotes  of  high  life  when 
he  mixed  in  fashionable  circles ;  and  Mr.  Home  Tooke's  general 
opinion  and  reflections  would  have  been  equally  instructive,  but  as  his 
conversation,  however  began,  invariably  led  to  politics,  and  might 
have  ended  in  an  unpleasant  controversy,  it  was  well  that  they  did 
not  meet.  As  Mr.  Home  Tooke  did  not  keep  the  engagement,  I 
wrote  to  him  the  next  day,  and  after  expressing  the  disappointment 
which  I  felt  in  not  having  been  favoured  with  his  company,  I  assured 
him  I  consoled  myself  with  the  idea  that  he  was  too  much  absorbed 
in  some  work,  intended  for  the  advantage  of  mankind,  to  recollect 
such  a  trifling  concern  as  an  engagement  to  dinner  with  an  humble 
friend.  I  received  the  following  answer,  of  which  I  have  preserved 
the  original  as  a  curiosity,  coming  from  so  extraordinary  and  con- 
spicuous a  character. 

to  john  taylor,  esq, 

My  dear  Sir, 

I  beg,  ten  thousand  times,  your  pardon.  My;  house  is  repairing 
and  my  memoranda  were  all  taken  down  in  the  dirt  and  confusion  of 
my  parlour;  in  which  confusion  I  still  remain.    I  completely  and 


96 


RECOUPS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


totally  forgot  my  engagement.  I  feel  extremely  for  the  displeasure 
you  must  have  entertained.    I  have  only  the  excuse  of  GEdipus — 

"  My  hands  are  guilty,  but  my  heart  is  free." 

Again,  I  beg  you  to  pardon  me. 

Dear  sir, 
Your  sorrowful  humble  servant, 

J.  H.  Tooke. 

The  late  Dr.  George  Pearson  was  very  much  attached  to  Mr, 
Home  Tooke,  and  visited  him  as  often  as  he  had  opportunity,  and 
thought  highly  of  his  character  apart  from  politics,  which  the  doctor 
told  me  he  always  cautiously  avoided,  though  it  was  difficult,  indeed 
impossible,  to  restrain  Mr.  Tooke's  tendency  to  the  discussion  of  such 
topics.  The  doctor,  however,  always  contrived  to  turn  the  discourse,, 
and  give  occasion  to  some  waggery,  in  which  he  was  as  ready  to  indulge 
his  humour,  as  in  political  animadversion.  Dr.  Pearson  was  generally 
deemed  well  read  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  considered  Mr.  Tooke  as 
an  acute  critic  and  profound  scholar. 

Mr.  Prince  Hoare  told  me  that  he  was  once  present  in  company 
with  Mr.  Home  Tooke,  when  he  proposed  some  subject  relative  to 
the  powers  of  the  human  voice  ;  that  he  separately  addressed  all  the 
company,  requesting  their  opinions,  which  he  afterward  summed  up, 
and  then  delivered  his  own,  manifesting  such  perspicuity,  as  well  as 
comprehensive  knowledge,  as  excited  the  admiration  of  all  present. 
Firm  as  his  mind  was,  like  all  human  beings,  he  had  some  odd  con- 
ceptions, and  was  at  times  very  irritable.  His  desire  of  being 
buried  in  his  garden  was  a  whim,  which  his  executors  prudently  re- 
jected, and  had  him  interred  according  to  the  ordinary  rites  of  sepul- 
ture. I  regret  to  hear  that  he  was  so  irascible  and  violent  in  his 
temper  as  death  approached,  that  there  were  no  traces  of  the  phi- 
losopher in  his  conduct,  and  he  was  so  turbulent  that  it  was  painful 
to  go  near  him,  yet  perpetually  calling  for  attendance.  At  length, 
after  a  painful  illness,  he  was  released  from  his  sufferings,  and  his  at- 
tendants ascribed  his  impatience  to  the  severity  of  what  he  endured, 
which  wholly  overcame  his  natural  tendency  to  good-humour. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Edward  Jerningham,  Esq.  This  gentleman  I  consider  as  alto- 
gether  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  intelligent  persons  I  ever  knew.  I 
had  admired  his  poems  in  general  when  I  had  not  the  least  idea  that  I 
should  ever  become  acquainted  with  him.  He  had  received  his 
education  chiefly  in  France,  and  came  to  London  about  the  twen- 
tieth year  of  his  age,  for  the  purpose  of  being  present  at  the  corona* 


EDWARD  JERNINGHAM,  ESQ. 


97 


tion  of  King  George  the  Third.  His  family  were  Roman  Catholics, 
and  he  was  of  the  same  persuasion.  He  told  me  that  the  first  subject 
which  engrossed  his  attention  was  the  grounds  of  difference  between 
the  Protestants  and  Roman  Catholics,  and  he  therefore  read  atten- 
tively all  that  the  most  eminent  advocates  on  both  sides  had  said  in 
support  of  their  respective  principles.  The  result  was  a  firm  con- 
viction of  the  truth  of  the  Protestant  faith,  to  which  he  conformed  ; 
and  such  were  the  liberal  sentiments  of  his  family,  that,  as  they  knew 
he  was  not  governed  by  any  motives  of  worldly  interest,  they  indeed 
regretted,  but  were  not  offended  at  his  desertion  of  their  traditional 
and  hereditary  religious  creed. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  been  always  a  great  admirer  of  poetry, 
and  at  a  very  early  period  had  become  a  votary  of  the  muse  ;  that 
he  therefore  had  felt  great  pleasure  in  bringing  from  France  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  the  celebrated  Miss  Martha  Blount,  the  favourite 
of  Pope.  He  described  her  as  short,  plump,  and  of  rather  a  florid 
complexion,  agreeable  and  lively  in  her  manners,  but  not  with  such 
an  understanding,  or  such  marks  of  elegance  and  high-breeding,  as 
might  have  been  expected  in  the  favourite  of  so  distinguished  a  poet 
as  Mr.  Pope. 

Mr.  Jerningham  was  admitted  to  a  familiar  intercourse  with  the 
great  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  who  told  him  that,  seeing  Miss  Blount  at 
a  large  party  one  evening  when  the  report  of  the  day  had  been  that 
Mr.  Pope  was  dead,  he  made  his  way  to  her  in  the  room,  and  ex- 
pressed the  peculiar  pleasure  which  he  felt  in  seeing  her,  as  her  pre- 
sence contradicted  the  melancholy  rumour  of  the  morning,  concluding 
that  if  it  had  been  well  founded  he  should  certainly  not  have  seen  her 
in  that  place,  t  When  the  lady  understood  the  nature  of  it,  she  affected 
some  surprise  that  such  a  report  should  be  expected  to  prevent  her 
from  visiting  her  friends,  and  displayed  so  much  flippant  indifference 
on  the  subject,  that  the  nobleman,  who  had  a  great  friendship  for 
Mr.  Pope,  resented  her  levity  so  much  that  he  never  spoke  to  her 
again.  Pope  manifested  his  opinion  of  Lord  Chesterfield  by  the  fol- 
lowing couplet  on  using  his  lordship's  pencil,  which  ought  to  have 
been  included  in  the  poet's  works.  ' 

Accept  a  miracle  instead  of  wit, 

See  two  dull  lines  by  Stanhope's  pencil  writ. 

Mr.  Jerningham  used  to  dine  very  frequently  with  Lord  Chester- 
field towards  the  close  of  that  nobleman's  life.  The  dinner-hour 
was  three.  The  party  generally  consisted  of  the  earl,  his  countess,, 
and  an  old  Roman  Catholic  priest.  The  lady  and  the  priest  were 
perpetually  jangling,  chiefly  on  religious  topics.  They  were  both 
very  violent,  and  though  the  earl  could  not  hear  them,  he  saw  by  their 
gestures  that  they  were  engaged  in  controversy,  and  used  to  console 
himself  that  there  was  one  advantage  in  his  deafness,  as  it  prevented 
him  from  hearing  the  grounds  of  their  disputes,  and  consequently 
from  being  appealed  to  as  an  arbiter  by  either  party.   The  dispu- 


98 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


tants  paid  no  regard  to  his  lordship,  or  to  his  guest  Mr.  Jerningham, 
who,  by  the  assistance  of  the  earl's  ear-trumpet,  was  enabled  to  con- 
verse with  him,  and  described  his  conversation  as  a  source  of  the 
most  interesting  and  instructive  observations.  Here  I  may  properly 
introduce  a  very  elegant  compliment  which  Mr.  Jerningham  paid  to 
Lord  Chesterfield  in  some  verses,  the  whole  of  which  would  do 
honour  to  these  pages.  After  a  general  reference  to  the  earl's  merits, 
lie  thus  ingeniously  adverts  to  his  deafness : 

Though  deafness,  by  a  doom  severe, 

Steals  from  thine  ear  the  murmuring  rill, 

And  Philomel's  delightful  air, — 
E'en  deem  not  this  a  partial  ill. 

Ah  !  if  anew  thine  ear  was  strung, 

Awake  to  every  voice  around, 
Thy  praises,  by  the  many  sung, 

Would  stun  theo  with  the  choral  sound. 

I  had  once  an  opportunity  of  applying  the  last  line  very  aptly  to 
the  author  himself.  We  were  at  a  concert  together  in  the  Hanover- 
square  rooms,  when,  observing  him  lean  on  the  orchestra  during  the 
performance,  I  softly  asked  him  if  it  did  not  "  Stun  him  with  the 
choral  sound."  He  did  not  at  first  recollect  the  reference,  but  in  a 
moment  turned  away  with  a  sort  of  laughing  confusion. 

In  the  prologue  to  his  comedy  of  "  The  Welsh  Heiress,"  which  I 
wrote  at  his  desire,  I  styled  him 

A  modest  minstrel  of  the  plaintive  choir. 

In  the  four  volumes  of  his  works  will  be  found  not  only  many  pathetic 
poems,  but  several  of  them  characterized  by  high  and  heroic  senti- 
ments. His  poem  entitled  c-  The  Shakspeare  Gallery,"  that  on 
"  The  rise  and  progress  of  Northern  Poetry,"  that  "  On  Enthusiasm," 
and,  indeed,  many  others,  are  marked  by  such  poetical  genius  as,  in 
my  opinion,  give  him  a  place  among  some  of  our  celebrated  poets. 
His  works  were  very  popular  in  the  higher  circles,  particularly  with 
those  who  added  taste  and  learning  to  rank  and  affluence. 

Horace  Walpole,  afterward  Lord  Orford,  complimented  him  in 
verse.  He  was  intimate  with  the  late  Earl  of  Harcourt,  at  whose 
seat  he  was  a  frequent  visiter,  as  well  as  with  the  late  Earl  of  Car- 
lisle, with  whom  he  passed  some  months  at  Castle  Howard.  But 
what,  indeed,  proves  the  estimation  in  which  his  character  and  talents 
were  held,  is,  that  he  was  honoured  with  an  invitation  to  the  Pavilion 
at  Brighton  by  his  late  majesty  George  the  Fourth,  when  Prince  of 
Wales,  remained  there  for  two  or  three  weeks,  and,  by  desire  of  his 
royal  highness,  regulated  the  library. 

When  Mr.  Jerningham  published  the  last  collection  of  his  works, 
he  introduced  a  note  to  his  poem  of  "  Abelard  to  Eloisa,"  which  I 
venture  to  insert,  because  I  was  proud  of  the  friendship  of  such  a 
man,  and  could  not  but  be  highly  gratified  with  his  commendation. 
The  note  was  as  follows : — "  The  following  poem  has  been  distia- 


EDWARD  JERNINGHAM,  ESQ. 


99 


guished  by  a  beautiful  sonnet,  inserted  in  a  volume  of  poems  that 
does  honour  to  modern  poetry,  by  Mr.  Taylor,  a  gentleman  whose 
commendation  is  a  passport  to  fame,  except  where  it  is  directed  (as 
in  the  present  instance)  by  the  amiable  bias  of  friendship."  Mr. 
Jerningham  was  not  merely  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  and  a  poet,  but 
a  patriot  and  a  politician.  His  poem  entitled  "  Peace,  Ignominy,  and 
Destruction,"  written  during  the  time  of  the  French  revolution,  dis- 
plays an  ardent  devotion  to  his  country  and  the  British  constitution, 
as  well  as  a  sound  knowledge  of  its  principles. 

Mr.  Burke  having  been  alluded  to  in  the  poem,  as  the  great  cham- 
pion of  order  and  good  government,  says,  in  a  letter  to  the  author, 
"  I  read  your  poem  with  great  pleasure.  The  conceptions  are  just, 
the  sentiments  affecting,  and  the  pictures  forcible  and  true.  I  can 
say  that  I  am  not  particular  in  this  opinion,  nor  am  I  bribed  to  it  by 
your  indulgence  to  me,  your  fellow-labourer  in  the  same  cause.  Mr. 
Wyndham,  I  understand  (and  he  has  a  judgment  not  to  be  deceived 
or  corrupted  by  praise),  thinks  of  your  poem  as  I  do.  I  have  the 
honour  to  be,  with  the  most  sincere  regard,  dear  sir,  your  most 
obliged  and  most  faithful  servant,  Edmund  Burke." 

This  poem,  though  one  of  his  last,  and  written  at  an  advanced  age 
by  the  author,  is  one  of  his  best  and  most  vigorous  productions.  Mr. 
Burke  pays  him  a  still  higher  compliment  on  his  poem  of  "  The 
Shakspeare  Gallery."  Speaking  of  the  author,  he  says,  "  I  have  not 
for  a  long  time  seen  any  thing  so  well  finished.  He  has  caught  new 
Jire,  by  approaching  in  his  perihelium,  so  near  to  the  sun  of  our 
poetical  system."  Dr.  Parr  was  liberal  and  even  profuse  in  his  eulo- 
gium  on  this  poem,  and  more  particularly  on  Mr.  Jerningham's  poem 
entitled  "  Enthusiasm,"  of  which  he  says,  "  The  general  plan  of  the 
work  is  well  formed.  The  imagery  is  striking,  without  glare ;  the 
texture  of  the  whole  style  is  easy,  without  feebleness.  Almost  all 
the  lines  flow  melodiously.  Many  of  the  expressions  are  wrought  up 
to  an  exquisite  pitch  of  eloquence,  and  the  debate  for  and  against  the 
claims  of  the  enthusiasts  is  conducted  at  once  with  the  perspicuity  of 
argument  and  the  animation  of  poetry." 

Mr.  Jerningham  always  experienced  a  liberal  reception  from  "  The 
Monthly  Review,"  through  the  whole  of  his  poetical  life,  and  no  un- 
favourable allusion  to  him  appeared  till  my  late  friend  William 
GifFord  wrote  a  couplet  in  his  poem  of  "  The  Basviad,"  which  shows 
that  he  certainly  was  not  acquainted  with  Mr.  Jerningham's  works, 
for  he  speaks  of  him  as  a  pastoral  poet,  though  Mr.  Jerningham  has 
not  one  pastoral  poem  in  all  his  numerous  productions.  The  author 
of  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature"  also  mentioned  Mr.  Jerningham 
unfavourably  in  a  parody  on  a  line  of  Pope.  Mr.  Jerningham 
answered  them  both  with  manly  spirit,  in  one  of  the  best  of  his  poems. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  bringing  Mr.  GifFord  and  Mr.  Jerningham  toge- 
ther, and  of  exciting  in  them  kind  sentiments  towards  each  other. 

I  dare  say  if  Mr.  Mathias,  whom  I  have  long  had  the  pleasure  of 
knowing,  was  really  the  author  of  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature,"  he, 
upon  reflection,  would  regret  that  he  attacked  a  brother  bard  whose 


100 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


political  sentiments  and  principles  were  the  same  as  his  own.  Here 
I  may  say,  that  in  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Mathias,  who  was  as  well- 
bred  a  gentleman  as  I  ever  knew,  referring  to  the  suspicion  and  the 
report  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  poem  in  question,  he  said  to  me, 
"  They  will  find  out  their  mistake  some  time  or  other."  Mr.  Mathias 
presented  his  tract  to  me  on  the  subject  of  the  poems  attributed  to 
Rowley ;  and  I  think  he  has  fairly  and  fully  proved  that,  however 
they  may  have  been  interpolated  by  Chatterton,  they  were  not  his 
productions.  Mr.  Mathias's  reasoning  is  perfectly  satisfactory,  at 
least  to  me.  I  understand  that  this  gentleman  resides  at  Naples  in 
good  health.  I  hope  he  will  long  enjoy  it,  for  the  sake  of  his  friends 
as  well  as  of  himself ;  for  his  learning,  talents,  and  urbanity  must 
render  him  the  subject  of  respect,  esteem,  and  admiration,  to  all  who 
have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him. 

There  is  so  much  spirit  in  Mr.  Jerningham's  vindication  of  his 
poem,  and  the  allusion  to  Gray's  elegy  is  so  apt,  that  the  following 
extract  may  be  acceptable  to  the  reader : — 

If  each  bold  village  Hampden  may  withstand 
The  little  tyrant  of  his  little  land  ; 
May  not  the  Muse  with  equal  right  maintain 
The  long-earn'd  honours  of  her  small  domain? 
Ye  great  departed  shades  !  who,  when  on  earth, 
Hail'd  with  benign  applause  the  Muse's  birth  ; 
O  Chesterfield  !  O  Chatham's  sacred  sire  1 
O  Gray  !  thou  lord  of  the  enchanting  lyre  ! 
Beneath  your  fost'ring  praise,  a  lowly  Muse 
Smiled,  like  the  flow'ret  fed  with  heavenly  dews, 
And  shall  this  flow'ret  perish  in  her  noon, 
Beneath  the  dull-ey'd  peasant's  clouted  shoon? 

I  have  seldom  passed  so  agreeable  a  day  as  when  I  accompanied 
a  lady  and  Mr.  Jerningham  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Pope's  villa  at  Twick- 
enham, before  "  the  spoiler  came,"  and  destroyed  every  vestige  of  its: 
interesting  state  as  left  by  the  poet.  A  rustic  lad,  when  we  entered 
the  memorable  grotto,  pointed  to  an  old  deal  table,  and  said  with  lu- 
dicrous simplicity,  "  There  Mr.  Pope  used  to  sit  and  write  a  copy  of 
verses."  There  was  an  impressive  solemnity  in  that  part  of  the 
grounds  which  was  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  the  poet's  mother. 
Mr.  Jerningham,  who  had  often  visited  the  place,  abounded  with 
anecdotes  of  the  bard,  and  with  some  accounts  of  his  personal  habits, 
which  he  learned  from  an  old  boatman  who  used  to  convey  Mr.  Pope 
from  Twickenham  to  Richmond. 

Towards  the  decline  of  life,  Mr.  Jerningham  turned  his  attention  to 
religious  subjects,  but  without  any  tendency  to  fanaticism.  His  first 
publication  on  these  subjects  was  a  well-written  tract  on  "  The  mild 
Tenour  of  Christianity,"  which  soon  passed  through  a  second  edition, 
He  paid  me  the  compliment  of  writing  the  following  manuscript  lines 
on  the  blank  leaf  of  the  book. 


EDWARD  JERNINGHAM,  ESQ. 


101 


TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ. 

Unvaried  friend,  through  many  a  varying-  year, 
Indulge  the  voice  that  courts  religion's  muse, 

Nor  thou  (to  virtue  as  to  science  dear) 
Thy  candid  audience  to  my  theme  refuse. 

Edward  Jerningham. 

March  25,  1807. 

This  tract  displays  extensive  reading  and  research,  and  is  charac- 
terized by  the  same  mild  spirit  which  forms  the  subject.  He  also 
published  about  the  same  time  a  translation  of  "  Select  Sermons  and 
Funeral  Orations"  from  Bossuet,  Bishop  of  Meaux,  with  an  original 
essay  on  the  "  Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit  in  England.'*'  His  next  work 
was  a  tract  on  "  The  Dignity  of  Human  Nature."  The  last  of  his 
religious  tracts  was  entitled  "  The  Alexandrian  School ;  or  a  Narra- 
tive of  the  First  Christian  Professors  in  Alexandria."  All  these  tracts 
were  liberally  received  by  the  periodical  critics,  and  passed  through 
several  editions.  With  the  last  work  he  again  addressed  rne  in  man- 
uscript in  the  following  words.  "  To  you,  my  amiable  and  long-tried 
friend,  I  present  my  little  theological  tract.  They  who  have  written 
half  so  well  as  you,  will  read  me  with  less  candour."  If  I  am  accused 
of  vanity  in  having  inserted  these  commendatory  passages,  I  can  only 
say  that  I  am  proud  of  such  testimonies  of  friendship  from  so  amiable- 
intelligent,  and  learned  a  character,  and  have  only  to  regret  that.  I  dc* 
not  deserve  them.* 

I  had  not  seen  Mr.  Jerningham  for  some  time,  and  at  length  re- 
ceived a  note  from  him  earnestly  requesting  that  I  would  call  on  him 
as  early  as  convenient  at  night,  as  he  had  something  particular  to  say 
to  me.  I  of  course  went,  and  was  shocked  to  hear  that  he  was 
alarmingly  ill.  He  was  in  bed,  and  I  attended  him  in  his  chamber. 
Conceiving  that  an  illness  of  some  weeks  had  very  much  altered  his 
person,  the  curtain  was  drawn  before  him  that  I  might  not  be  shocked 
at  the  change,  and  I  did  not  see  him  at  this  last  meeting.  He  told 
me  that  he  felt  death  was  approaching,  and  that  he  had  requested  my 
presence  to  take  a  last  farewell.  As  far  as  I  can  recollect,  the  fol- 
lowing were  his  last  words. 

"  I  know  that  when  I  am  no  more,  you  will  say  something  kind  of 
my  memory,  but  I  am  already  dead  to  all  the  vanities  of  this  world, 
and  what  I  desire  is,  that  you  will  say  I  was  consistent  in  my  religious 
creed  and  conduct.  I  am  besieged  by  some  Roman  Catholic  priests^ 
who  are  anxious  I  should  return  to  their  persuasion,  and,  if  there  were 
no  likelihood  of  contradiction,  they  would  certainly  make  no  scruple 

*  I  have  above  fifty  letters  which  I  received  from  Mr.  Jerningham,  from  which  I 
might  extract  many  passages  so  favourable  to  me  that  I  have  not  courage  enough  to- 
insert  them  in  this  place.  Most  of  these  letters  are  worthy  of  public  attention,  as 
they  are  characterized  by  wit,  good-humour,  taste,  descriptive  elegance,  and  moral 
sentiments,  as  well  as  by  genuine  piety.  As  a  critic,  in  my  humble  opinion,  he  was 
acute,  profound,  and  liberal.  Speaking  of  translations  in  one  of  his  letters  to  me,  he 
says,  "Translations  are  only  crutches  for  those  who  are  lame.  I  think  I  should 
express  myself  better  if  I  were  to  say,  that  reading  the  original  is  gathering  the  fruit 
from  the  tree  with  all  its  raciness  and  flavour." 


102 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


of  asserting  that  I  had  done  so.  They  would  even  think  it  meritorious 
so  to  do,  for  the  honour  of  their  religion.  All,  therefore,  that  I  require 
of  you,  as  the  last  testimony  of  friendship,  is,  to  state  in  your  news- 
paper that  I  took  the  sacrament  on  Wednesday  last  according  to  the 
rites  of  the  Church  of  England."  He  then  in  the  most  friendly  and 
affecting  terms  took  leave  of  me,  and  died  on  the  following  day.  After 
1  left  him,  he  ordered  a  whole-length  drawing  of  himself  to  be  sent 
to  me  without  delay.  I  inserted  a  tribute  to  his  literary  and  moral 
character  in  the  Sun  newspaper,  and  added  all  that  he  had  desired 
me  to  say  on  the  consistency  of  his  religious  principles.  I  sent  the 
paper  to  his  nephew,  Mr.  Edward  Jerningham,  and  apologized  for 
having  adverted  to  the  subject  of  his  religion,  as  his  creed  differed 
from  that  of  his  family,  declaring  that  I  should  not  have  done  so  if  it 
had  not  been  in  compliance  with  his  uncle's  last  solemn  desire.  The 
gentleman  called  on  me,  to  thank  me  for  the  tribute  which  I  had  paid 
to  the  memory  of  his  uncle,  and  readily  admitted  that  I  had  properly 
discharged  the  last  duty  of  friendship. 

I  wrote  to  Mr.  Combe,  whose  literary  character  I  have  previously 
noticed,  and  who  was  one  of  Mr.  Jerningham's  oldest  friends,  to  give 
him  the  unwelcome  tidings  of  his  death.  The  following  is  his  answer. 
**  So  Mr.  Jerningham  has  bid  us  farewell !  I  was  always  confident 
that  he  had  virtue  enough,  but  I  was  not  without  an  apprehension 
that  he  might  want  nerve,  to  meet  the  awful  moment,  as  I  find  he  did. 
1  am  infinitely  gratified  to  hear  that  he  died  calm,  resigned,  and  happy. 
But,  as  old  Jeremy  Taylor  has  said,  and  no  man  ever  did  or  will  say 
what  i3  more  applicable  to  human  wants  and  weakness,  or  whose 
sentiments  are  more  encouraging  or  consolatory  to  our  nature, 4  When 
God  is  pleased  to  send  trials,  he  never  fails  to  send  strength.' " 

In  addition  to  the  testimonies  of  Mr.  Jerningham's  poetical  genius 
which  I  have  given,  I  may  properly  show  in  what  estimation  he  was 
held  by  the  late  Lord  Byron,  who,  in  a  note  to  his  vigorous  satire, 
•entitled  "  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,"  has  the  following 
passage  :  "  I  hear  that  Mr.  Jerningham  is  about  to  take  up  the  cudgels 
for  his  Maecenas,  Lord  Carlisle ;  I  hope  not :  he  was  one  of  the  few 
who,  in  the  very  short  intercourse  I  had  with  him,  treated  me  with 
kindness  when  a  boy,  and  whatever  he  may  say  or  do,  1  pour  on,  I 
will  endure.' "  No  person  was  more  able  to  appreciate  a  character 
than  Lord  Byron,  or  less  disposed  to  spare  those  whom  he  might 
think  deserving  of  censure ;  therefore  the  submissive  respect  with 
which  he  treats  Mr.  Jerningham,  will  justify  the  conclusion  that  he 
thought  highly  of  his  moral  qualities,  as  well  as  of  his  poetical  powers, 
as  he  must  have  been  well  aware  of  his  rank  among  the  English  bards. 

A  more  affectionate  relative  than  Mr.  Jerningham  could  hardly 
exist.  He  lived  many  years  with  his  mother  till  she  died  at  a  very 
advanced  age ;  and  by  his  tenderness  and  filial  affection,  illustrated 
all  that  his  poetical  predecessor,  Pope,  has  so  beautifully  said  of  his 
own  attention  to  his  venerable  parent,  under  the  same  circumstances. 

In  a  letter  which  I  received  from  Mr.  Jerningham,  at  Cossey,  dated 
1809,  he  says, "  Since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  I  have  dragged 


EDWARD  JERNINGHAM,  ESQ. 


103 


through  a  long  and  melancholy  scene.  I  found  my  brother  (the  late 
Sir  William  Jerningham)  at  my  arrival  at  Cossey,  in  a  state  that 
excluded  the  least  indulgence  of  hope.  A  gradual  and  visible  decay, 
at  the  expiration  of  five  weeks,  terminated  in  his  death.  If  it  be  a 
salutary  thing  to  go  into  the  house  of  mourning,  I  ought  to  be  the 
better  for  what  1  have  beheld.  On  Tuesday  last,  my  brother  was 
deposited  in  the  vault  of  the  new  Gothic  Chapel  (the  first  inhabitant 
of  that  dreary  mansion),  to  take  his  long  repose.  I  will  venture  to 
say  that,  at  his  resurrection,  he  will  not  find  himself  outdone  in  acts 
of  benevolence  by  any  who  may  be  summoned  to  the  same  awful 
tribunal." 

In  another  letter,  received  from  the  same  place,  dated  1811,  he 
•says,  "  My  nephew  (the  present  Lord  Stafford)  and  his  wife,  who  is 
very  accomplished,  live  in  a  higher  rank  of  splendour  than  my  late 
brother,  and  equal  him,  if  possible,  in  all  the  milder  attractions  that 
beam  from  benevolence  and  generosity."  In  the  same  letter  he  gives 
an  interesting  account  of  the  manner  in  which  he  passed  his  time. 
Having  the  indulgence  of  breakfasting  by  himself  at  his  own  time,  he 
enjoyed  a  long  studious  morning.  He  says,  "  If  you  ask  me  what  I 
have  been  reading,  I  answer  that  I  have  seen  nothing  new,  but  the 
excellent  library  here  is  more  than  sufficient  for  the  most  omnivorous 
appetite.  I  have  had  some  intercourse  with  Gibbon.  I  have  read 
all  his  notes  to  his  history,  which  show  his  extensive  reading  and  his 
investigating  spirit.  I  have  amused  myself  with  a  second  perusal  of 
Godwin's  Chaucer,  which  contains  frequently  deep  reflections. 
Chaucer  is  only  the  text,  while  the  interesting  facts  of  the  age  are 
made  to  rally  round  the  poet.  St.  Bernard's  moral  discourses  have 
been  part  of  my  reading.  He  has  warmth  and  energy,  but  his  Latin 
is  inferior  to  that  of  Lactantius,  of  whom  I  read  half  a  volume  last 
year.  St.  Bernard  appears  to  me  to  have  thought  in  old  French, 
while  he  wrote  in  Latin  ;  but  you  will  think  me  an  old  pedantic  monk 
if  I  should  proceed,  and  so  I  will  leave  off  and  begin  my  walk." 

I  cite  these  passages  out  of  many  others  of  the  same  description, 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  Mr.  Jerningham  was  a  scholar 
and  a  critic,  as  well  as  a  poet.  He  was?  a  warm  and  steady  friend, 
and  to  his  servants  a  kind  and  indulgent  master.  Some  years  after 
his  death,  I  heard  them  speak  of  him  with  great  respect,  gratitude, 
and  affection. 

I  have  dwelt  the  longer  on  the  memory  of  Mr.  Jerningham,  be- 
cause, as  I  have  before  said,  I  consider  him  one  of  the  most  amiable 
characters  I  ever  knew.  He  was  my  warm  and  sincere  friend  ;  to 
him  I  was  indebted  for  many  happy  hours,  and  for  much  interesting 
and  valuable  information.  No  person  ever  enjoyed  a  more  familiar 
intercourse  with  the  learned  world,  as  well  as  with  the  ranks  of 
fashion ;  and,  with  a  slight  alteration,  what  Pope  says  of  himself  in 
his  imitation  of  Horace,  Book  ii.  Sat.  1,  is  strictly  applicable  to  Mr. 
Jerningham. 

Envy  must  own  I  live  among  the  great, 
No  tool  of  party  and  no  spy  of  state, 


104 


RECORDS   or  MY  MFE. 


"With  eyes  that  pry  not,  tongue  that  ne'er  repeats, 
Fond  to  spread  friendships,  but  to  cover  heats, 

To  help  who  want,  to  forward  who  excel : 
This  all  who  know  me  know,  who  love  me  tell ; 
And  who  unknown  defame  me,  let  them  be 
Scribblers  or  peers,  alike  are  mob  to  me. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Charles  Townley,  Esq.  This  gentleman  was  deservedly  dis- 
tinguished by  a  wide  circle  of  learned  and  elegant  connexions,  and 
was  esteemed  one  of  the  best-bred  men  in  the  kingdom.  He  pos- 
sessed a  considerable  fortune,  which  he  employed  in  hospitality  and 
in  patronizing  the  fine  arts.  His  collection  of  the  works  of  ancient 
sculpture  equalled  any  of  the  most  celebrated  in  this  country,  and 
his  doors  were  liberally  opened  to  all  men  of  taste.  I  was  intro- 
duced to  him  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Penneck,  of  the  British  Museum,  and 
was  afterward  invited  to  see  what  were  generally  denominated  the 
Townley  Marbles  ;  and  a  finer  collection  was,  perhaps,  never  before 
in  the  hands  of  a  private  person.  His  bust  of  Clytie,  one  of  the 
most  admired  remains  of  Grecian  sculpture,  enabled  him  to  gratify 
many  of  his  friends,  by  having  plaster  casts  made  from  it.  It  is  now 
in  all  the  sculpture  shops.  Its  beautiful,  delicate,  and  pensive  ex- 
pression, fully  illustrates  the  fable  on  which  it  is  founded. 

Mr.  Townley  was  the  nephew  of  the  unfortunate  gentleman  who 
was  beheaded  for  high  treason,  and  whose  head  I  remember  to  have 
seen  placed  upon  a  pole  on  the  top  of  Temple  Bar.  As  this  exhi- 
bition was  painful  in  no  slight  degree  to  Mr.  Townley,  some  of  his 
friends,  among  whom  was  Mr.  Penneck,  formed  a  plan  for  removing 
it ;  and  one  night,  which  happened  to  be  a  very  windy  one,  they 
effected  their  purpose  without  interruption.  No  inquiry  was  made,  as 
it  was  inferred  that  the  head  had  been  blown  off  by  the  storm.  Mr. 
Townley  had,  therefore,  the  melancholy  pleasure  of  having  deposited 
the  head  in  the  tomb  of  his  ancestors.  Though  a  Roman  Catholic^ 
Mr.  Townley  possessed  a  truly  liberal  mind,  of  which  the  following 
fact  is  a  sufficient  proof.  He  had  a  good  benefice  in  his  gift.  A  Ro- 
man Catholic  clergyman  of  great  learning,  and  of  the  most  amiable 
character,  wholly  without  a  provision,  was  offered  the  living,  under 
the  unavoidable  condition  of  his  conforming  to  the  established  religion 
of  the  country.  The  clergyman,  though  without  the  means  of  sup- 
port, felt  conscientious  scruples,  which  he  avowed,  and  seemed  dis- 
posed to  decline  the  generous  offer.  To  settle  the  matter  Mr.  Pen- 
neck invited  Mr.  Townley  to  dinner.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Warner,  chap- 
lain to  Lord  Gower  when  our  ambassador  to  France,  just  before 
the  breaking  out  of  the  revolution,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  priest* 
were  of  the  party.    After  dinner  the  subject  was  brought  forward 


CHARLES  TOWNLEY,  ESQ.' — o'BRYEN  THE  ACTOR. 


105 


by  Mr.  Townley,  who  observed,  that  being  a  layman,  though  brought 
up  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  he  could  not  be  supposed  to  be  suf- 
ficiently conversant  with  the  grounds  of  difference  between  the  Ro- 
man Catholics  and  the  Protestants  to  be  able  to  remove  the  scruples 
of  the  priest ;  but  as  the  good  of  mankind  was  the  object  of  both,  and 
as  the  reverend  gentleman  was  not  likely  to  engage  in  religious  con- 
troversy, but  to  inculcate  the  true  principles  of  Christianity,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  better  qualified  to  do  justice  to  the  situation  than 
any  Protestant  divine  whom  he  knew.  Mr.  Penneck  followed,  and 
avowed  the  same  opinions,  and  requested  the  priest  to  accept  the 
living,  to  wiiich  he  did  not  doubt  that  he  would  do  credit.  At  length 
it  was  Mr.  Warner's  turn  to  express  his  sentiments  ;  and  being  a  con- 
vivial character,  and  quite  a  latitudinarian  in  matters  of  religion,  he 
proposed  that  the  priest  should  leave  the  subject  to  the  discussion  of 
his  friends,  while  he  took  a  walk  round  the  museum  gardens.  The 
priest  agreed,  and  said,  "  Well,  gentlemen,  I  am  duly  sensible  of  your 
kindness,  and  deeply  grateful  to  Mr.  Townley  for  his  generous  offer ; 
I  leave  my  honour  in  your  hands,  and  doubt  not  that  your  decision 
will  be  just."  He  then  retired  to  the  gardens,  the  gentlemen  returned 
to  the  bottle,  and  ndt  a  word  passed  on  the  subject  during  the  priest's 
absence.  On  his  return  they  told  him  that  they  had  weighed  his  scru- 
ples, and  having  fully  canvassed  the  question,  were  all  agreed  that  he 
might  conscientiously  accept  the  living.  He  did  so,  became  a  favour- 
ite preacher  with  his  congregation,  and  performed  his  duties  with  ex- 
emplary zeal  and  piety. 

When  the  late  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley  was  appointed  an  Irish  dean, 
a  young  lady  who  resided  on  the  spot  thus  expressed  her  wish.  "  Oh  ! 
how  I  long  to  see  our  dane.  I  am  told  that  he  is  a  very  handsome 
man,  and  that  he  fights  like  an  angel."  Sir  Henry  was  certainly  a 
handsome,  well-formed  man,  and  by  his  strength  and  activity  was 
properly  qualified  for  pugilistic  contests,  in  which  he  was  always  vic- 
torious. 

The  lady  who  rode  a  thousand  miles  in  a  thousand  hours  on  one 
horse,  which  forms  the  subject  of  an  admirable  ironical  paper  in  Dr. 
Johnson's  "  Idler,"  No.  6,  was  a  Miss  Pond.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Mr.  John  Pond,  a  celebrated  dealer  in  horses,  and  author  of  a 
work  relating  to  the  turf,  very  popular  at  the  time.  I  knew  Miss 
Pond  very  well.  I  used  to  meet  her  at  Mrs.  Jackson's,  in  Lyon's 
Inn.  Mrs.  Jackson  was  the  first  wife  of  my  early  friend  the  Rev. 
William  Jackson,  who  was  tried  for  high  treason  in  Dublin,  and  would 
have  suffered  capitally  if  he  had  not  died  suddenly  in  the  court,  as  it 
was  supposed  from  the  effects  of  poison.  Miss  Pond  was  advanced 
in  life  when  I  knew  her.  She  was  tall,  and  with  a  good  form,  by  no 
means  handsome,  but  well  bred  and  accomplished.  She  played  very 
well  on  the  piano-forte.  There  was  a  gravity,  and  even,  melancholy 
in  her  manner,  which  I  was  told  was  the  effect  of  disappointment  in 
love.  It  appeared  that  she  was  attached  to  Mr.  O'Bryen  the  actor, 
who  is  mentioned  with  praise,  even  by  that  stern  critic  Churchill,  in 
his  "Rosciad."    Mr.  O'Bryen  clandestinely  married  Lady  Susan 


106 


UECOUDS  OF  MY  LIFJ5. 


Strangeways,  the  daughter  of  Lord  Ilchester,  and  it  is  said  that  im- 
mediately after  the  nuptial  ceremony  was  performed  at  St.  Paul's, 
Covent  Garden,  and  as  the  new-married  pair  were  quitting  the  church- 
door  at  one  end,  the  father  and  his  party  entered  at  the  other  to  pre- 
vent the  union.  It  was  an  unfortunate  marriage  for  O'Bryen,  except 
that  he  had  an  affectionate  wrife  ;  for  the  pride  of  the  family  obliged 
him  to  quit  the  stage,  and  an  appointment  was  procured  for  him  in  one 
of  our  West  India  Colonies,  where  he  remained  for  many  years,  de- 
prived of  a  profession  in  which  he  delighted  and  in  which  he  was  ad- 
mired, and  remote  from  his  friends,  who  were  some  of  the  first  peo- 
ple in  this  country.  He  w7as,  I  have  heard,  a  fencing-master  in  Dub- 
lin, or  the  son  of  a  fencing-master,  but  with  manners  so  easy  and  so- 
sprightly  that  he  wras  admitted  into  the  best  company,  and  was  a 
member  of  several  of  the  most  fashionable  clubs  at  the  west  end  of 
the  town. 

A  brother  of  mine,  wrho  died  at  Calcutta  many  years  ago,  and  was 
well  able  to  estimate  characters,  and  who  knew  Mr.  O'Bryen,  assured 
me  that  he  had  never  seen  any  person  equal  to  that  gentleman  for  un- 
affected ease,  spirit,  and  elegance  of  manners.  Mr.  O'Bryen  pos- 
sessed literary  talents.  He  wrote  a  comedy,  entitled  "The  Duel," 
partly,  I  believe,  taken  from  the  French ;  and  a  farce,  popular  at  the 
time,  entitled  u  Cross  Purposes." 

As  Miss  Pond  is  the  heroine  of  one  of  the  papers  written  by  Dr. 
Johnson,  she  may  well  be  considered  worthy  of  remembrance,  and 
of  having  her  name  recorded  here,  as  it  is  not  mentioned  in  any  notes 
to  "  The  Idler"  that  I  have  seen,  or  probably  in  any  that  were  ever 
written. 

Mr.  Battishill.  This  was  an  admired  musician  and  composer  in 
his  day,  but  a  man  very  careless  and  dissipated  in  his  conduct.  He 
first  became  known  by  his  music  to  a  ballad  entitled  "  Kate  of  Aber- 
deen "  written  by  Mr.  Cunningham,  a  poet  and  an  actor  well  known 
in  the  provincial  theatres  of  the  north,  a  worthy  man,  and  one  of  the 
early  friends  of  the  late  Mr.  Shield.  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  in- 
troducing Mr.  Battishill  and  Mr.  Shield  to  each  other.  They  had 
before  only  known  each  other  by  reputation.  Battishill  wras  married 
to  a  very  pretty  woman,  who  ran  off  with  Webster,  the  celebrated 
singer.  Battishill  married  again,  and  to  a  plain,  decent  woman,  who 
was  not  likely  to  follow  the  example  of  her  profligate  predecessor. 
Poor  Battishill  was  always  embarrassed,  and  had  shifted  his  quarters 
all  round  the  suburbs  of  the  metropolis  so  often,  that  he  died  in  ob- 
scurity, and  no  notice  seems  to  have  been  taken  of  the  time  or  place, 
though  he  was  a  man  of  unquestionable  merit  in  his  profession. 

To  show  the  careless  and  convivial  disposition  of  Battishill,  as  I 
was  passing  over  Blackfriars  Bridge  one  evening,  I  saw  him  walking 
before  me,  and  hastening  my  pace,  I  tapped  him  on  the  back. 
Without  turning  his  head  to  see  who  had  touched  him,  he  said,  "  Ah  1 
will  you  go  with  me  to  Jemmy  Rowley's  ?" — concluding,  of  course, 
that  I  was  one  of  his  boon  companions.    Considering  his  general 


DR.  SHEBBEARE  AND  MR.  TETHERIN  G  TON, 


107 


state  of  embarrassment,  it  is  somewhat  singular  that  he  was  not  rather 
alarmed  at  a  tap  on  the  shoulder. 

Dr.  Shebbeare.  I  was  slightly  acquainted  with  this  gentleman, 
and  introduced  Dr.  Wolcot  to  him  one  evening  as  we  returned  to 
town  after  having  dined  with  Dr.  Monsey  at  Chelsea  Hospital.  We 
dined  at  the  governor's  table,  as  it  was  then  styled,  but  which  has 
long  been  abolished.  We  let  Dr.  Shebbeare  have  all  the  talk  to  him- 
self, as  he  had  once  been  a  distinguished  character,  and  we  wished  to 
know,  so  far  as  wre  had  opportunity  of  judging,  what  were  his  pre- 
tensions to  the  fame  he  had  acquired.  He  was  loud,  positive,  loqua- 
cious, and  dictatorial.  To  keep  him  in  good-humour,  I  spoke  in  praise 
of  his  novel,  entitled  "  Lydia,  or  Filial  Piety,"  which  I  had  read  in 
my  early  days,  and  which  I  recollected  with  pleasure  ;  and  this  notice 
of  his  work  induced  him  to  say  that  he  had  lately  called  on  a  friend, 
who  not  being  at  home,  he  took  up  a  book  w  hich  he  found  upon  the 
table,  and  opened  it  in  the  middle.  After  reading  some  pages,  he 
said  he  found  the  "  author's  train  of  thought"  (such  was  his  expression) 
so  congenial  to  his  own,  that  he  turned  to  the  title-page,  and  found  it 
was  actually  his  own  work,  of  Which  I  had  been  speaking.  This  state- 
ment was  evidently  a  falsehood,  for  the  work  deals  little  in  reflection, 
and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  have  read  a  single  page  without 
meeting  the  names  of  some  of  the  characters  of  which  the  work 
consisted. 

I  never  read  his  "  Letters  to  the  English  Nation,"  which  contained 
the  libel  for  which  he  was  sentenced  to  the  pillory.  From  respect  to 
his  function  as  a  clergyman,  he  was,  as  I  have  heard,  permitted  to 
stand  upon  the  board,  instead  of  putting  his  head  through  the  hole. 
During  the  hour  while  he  stood,  there -was  a  very  hard  rain,  and 
an  Irish  chairman  held  an  umbrella  over  him  all  the  time.  When 
the  punishment  ended,  he  gave  the  man  half-a-crown.  "  Whaty. 
no  more,  plase  your  honour?"  said  the  man.  "Why  you  stood 
but  an  hour,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  surely  that  is  enough."  "Ay, 
but  consider  the  disgrace,  plase  your  honour,''  rejoined  the  man,  and 
the  doctor,  far  from  being  offended,  gave  him  a  guinea  for  his  humour. 
This  trait  of  the  doctor's  temper  is  the  most  favourable  anecdote  1 
ever  heard  of  him.  His  son  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, a  very  respectable  character,  and  a. great  admirer  of  music. 

Mr.  Tetiierington.  This  person  I  have  met  in  private  and  in 
tavern  parties.  He  was  an  Irishman,  and  chiefly  known  at  gaming- 
tables, and  places  of  a  similar  description.  I  have  heard  that  when 
he  first  came  from  Dublin,  he  affected  great  simplicity,  and  the  per- 
sons in  general  with  whom  he  associated,  expected  to  find  him  so  easy 
a  dupe,  that  he  went  by  the  name  of  "  The  Child  but  it  soon  ap- 
peared, to  use  their  language,  that  he  was  "  a  deep  one,"  and  more 
than  a  match  for  all  of  them,  as  they  found  to  their  cost.  He,  how- 
ever, retained  the  name  of"  The  Child."  He  had  more  of  that  mode 
of  speaking  which  is  styled  slang  than  any  man  I  ever  met  with,  not 
excepting  Hewerdine,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  another  place. 
As  I  was  once  returning  late  with  Dr.  Wolcot  from  a  company  with 


108 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


whom  we  had  passed  the  night,  we  met  Tetherington,  who  was  so 
tipsy  that  he  hardly  knew  me,  but  notwithstanding  his  convivial  state, 
all  he  said  was,  "  Will  you  go  and  have  a  booze  ?"  We,  however, 
declined  the  overture,  and  wished  him  good-night.  He  had  an  agree- 
able person ;  and  an  actress  of  merit  on  the  London  stage  was  so 
attached  to  him,  that  she  relinquished  a  good  situation  to  live  with 
him,  and  thereby  lost  her  reputation,  and  finally  sank  into  dejection 
and  ruin. 

The  late  Mr.  Lewis,  the  great  comic  actor  and  the  unaffected  gen- 
tleman, told  me  the  following  anecdote  of  Mr.  Tetherington.  An 
elephant  was  brought  to  Dublin,  and  as  it  was  the  only  one  that  had 
«ver  been  seen  in  Ireland,  the  proprietor  charged  a  crown  for  the 
sight.  Tetherington,  who  wanted  to  see,  but  was  not  inclined  to 
pay,  hastily  entered  the  place,  exclaiming  in  a  hurry,  "  Where's  your 
elephant?  What!  is  that  him?  Turn  him  about:  Lord,  how  he 
stinks  ! — I  can't  stay  any  longer ;"  and,  holding  his  nose  while  he 
uttered  this  complaint,  he  as  hastily  left  the  place  as  he  had  entered, 
and  the  keeper  was  afraid  to  stop  him  and  demand  payment,  lest  he 
should  bring  a  disgrace  upon  the  animal,  and  lessen  its  attraction. 
If  this  story  had  reached  London  before  Tetherington,  he  might  have 
been  deemed,  in  the  words  of  Pope  upon  Gay,  "  in  wit  a  man," 
rather  than  " in  simplicity  a  child" 

Coan,  the  dwarf.  This  man  is  mentioned  by  Churchill  in  his 
M  Rosciad ;"  speaking  of  Barry,  who  was  very  tall,  he  says, 

While  to  six  feet  the  vig'rous  stripling  grown, 
Declares  that  Garrick  is  another  Coan. 

Coan  lived  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  Pinchbecks :  of  these  there 
were  three  brothers,  all  of  whom  were  acquainted  with  my  father. 
They  had  invented  the  metal  which  went  by  their  name,  and  to 
attract  public  attention  they  pretended  to  quarrel,  and  advertised 
against  each  other,  all  claiming  the  invention,  and  proclaiming  the 
superiority  of  the  article  in  which  each  of  them  dealt.  They  were, 
however,  upon  the  most  amiable  footing  in  reality,  and  used  to  meet 
every  night  and  divide  the  profits  of  the  day.  The  metal  had  lost 
its  popularity  when  I  used  to  accompany  my  father  to  visit  his 
patients,  and  he  generally  called  on  them  as  he  passed  their  way. 

In  my  time  one  of  the  Pinchbecks  kept  the  toy  and  rarity  shop  in 
Cockspur-street,  and  was  patronised  by  King  George  the  Third,  who 
was  fond  of  ingenious  curiosities ;  another  was  a  pawnbroker,  in 
West  Smithfield ;  and  the  third  was  landlord  of  a  coffee-house  and 
tavern  in  Five  Fields,  Chelsea.  With  him  resided  Coan  the  dwarf, 
whose  portrait  was  the  sign  of  the  tavern. 

I  remember  being  with  my  father  at  this  tavern,  of  which  Coan 
was  the  principal  attraction.  I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  and 
Coan  was  shorter  in  stature  than  myself.  He  walked  to  and  fro  in 
the  room  conversing  with  great  ease  and  spirit  with  my  father,  upon 
public  affairs,  I  presume.    The  notice  which  Coan  excited,  and  the 


MISCELLANEOUS  ANECDOTES. 


familiar  vivacity  of  his  manner,  I  well  remember  mortified  me,  as  I 
was  left  by  myself  in  one  of  the  boxes  without  notice,  though  I 
thought  that,  as  I  was  taller  than  he,  I  was  entitled  to  as  much  atten- 
tion, overlooking  entirely  the  difference  of  our  ages.  As  well  as  I 
can  possibly  recollect  the  events  of  so  distant  a  period,  Coan,  at  the 
time  when  I  saw  him,  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  and  an  intelli- 
gent, observing,  and  reflecting  person.  My  father,  who  was  a  man 
of  sense,  wit,  and  discernment,  represented  him  to  me  in  that  light. 
I  shall  conclude  this  chapter  with  a  few  anecdotes. 

The  late  king,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  gave  a  magnificent  fete  at 
Carlton  House,  and  for  a  few  days  after  persons  having  previously 
obtained  tickets  were  permitted  to  see  the  tables  and  the  adjoining 

rooms  of  that  palace.    Lady  W  complained  bitterly  to  Colonel 

Bloomfield  that  her  husband  was  not  invited.  The  colonel  attempted 
to  sooth  the  lady,  observing,  his  royal  highness  had  so  many  persons 
to  invite,  that,  to  avoid  giving  offence  to  any,  it  had  been  deemed  ex- 
pedient to  follow  the  alphabet  for  the  order  of  names,  but  the  com- 
pany was  found  to  be  complete  before  the  list  reached  down  to  W. 
"Pooh,  pooh  !"  said  the  lady,  "don't  tell  me,  for  I  dare  say  there 
were  many  W's  there." 

Mr.  Pitt  went  one  evening  into  the  late  Duchess  of  Gordon's  box 
at  the  Opera-house.  Not  having  seen  him  for  some  time,  she  ad- 
dressed him  with  her  usual  blunt  familiarity.  "  Well,  Mr.  Pitt,  do 
you  talk  as  much  nonsense  as  you  did  when  I  last  saw  you  ?" — "  I 
know  not  that,"  said  Mr.  Pitt,  "  but  I  have  certainly  not  heard  so 
much  nonsense  since  I  had  last  the  pleasure  of  seeing  your  grace." 

During  war-time,  a  member  of  parliament  arose  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  proposed  that  the  militia  should  not  be  ordered  out 
-of  the  kingdom.  Mr.  Pitt  immediately  arose,  and  with  sarcastic 
smile,  said,  "  Except  in  case  of  invasion." 

Dignum  was  once  performing  one  of  the  dumb  nobles  in  the  play 
of  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  hearing  in  praise  of  Cardinal  Wolsey's 
learning,  M  Witness  those  twins,  Ipswich  and  Oxford,"  colleges  which 
the  cardinal  had  founded  ;  Dignum  whispered  his  brother  noble  on 
the  stage,  observing  that  he  never  knew  the  cardinal  had  been  mar- 
ried, and  asking  if  the  twins  were  his  natural  children. 

Dr.  Johnson.  I  hold  in  reverence  the  character  of  this  great 
man,  but  as  he  was  avowedly  attached  to  the  Stuart  family,  there 
can  be  no  harm  in  illustrating  his  sentiments  by  a  fact.  Dr.  Monsey 
assured  me  that  he  had  once  been  in  company  where  the  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  the  age  of  our  late  excellent  monarch  George  the 
Third.  Johnson  was  present,  and  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Pooh,  what 
does  it  signify  when  such  an  animal  was  born,  or  whether  he  had 
ever  been  born  at  all  ?"— "  Yet,"  added  Monsey,  **  I  have  lived  to 
see  that  man  accept  a  pension  from  the  king  whom  he  thus  affected 
to  despise." 

Buckhorse.  This  man  w7as  one  of  the  lower  order  of  boxers; 
he  used  to  frequent  the  schools  of  Westminster  and  Eton,  and  would 
let  the  scholars  hit  him  as  hard  as  thev  could,  even  on  the  face,  for  a 

F  " 


no 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


shilling.  He  used  to  sell  little  switches  for  boys,  which  he  styled 
jemmies.  I  remember  to  have  seen  him  towards  the  end  of  his  life, 
when  he  was  a  poor  decrepit  creature.  He  had  only  one  eye,  but 
I  suppose  he  had  lost  the  other  in  early  life,  for  there  is  a  print  from 
a  picture  by  a  painter  of  that  time,  named  Collins,  representing  two 
females  fighting,  and  Buckhorse  appears  to  be  taking  part  in  the  con- 
test, and  seems  to  have  been  a  stout  man.  Buckhorse  was  once  so 
notorious  that  two  volumes  were  published  entitled  "  Memoirs  of  the 
noted  Buckhorse,"  but  I  suppose  they  were  merely  the  vehicle  of 
humour  or  of  political  satire.  I  never  read  them,  and  when  I  wanted 
to  obtain  them,  they  seemed  to  have  been  expunged  from  the  circu- 
lating libraries. 

Emery,  the  actor,  whom  I  well  knew,  was  a  man  of  talents  and 
of  worth,  but  too  much  devoted  to  convivial  enjoyments.  He  was 
excellent  in  rustic  characters,  and  indeed  so  plain,  simple,  and  cor- 
rect in  performing  them,  that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  acting.  He  was 
a  good  musician,  and  also  an  artist.  Finding  that  I  had  supported 
him  in  the  public  press  before  I  knew  him,  when  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  him  he  presented  me  with  a  landscape  drawn  by  him- 
self in  water-colours,  and  framed  and  glazed,  which  he  would  not 
suffer  me  to  refuse. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Thomson,  the  poet.  The  merit  of  this  poet  is  universally  acknow- 
ledged, and  therefore  all  eulogiums  on  his  works  are  unnecessary ; 
but  the  character  of  these  and  the  conduct  of  his  life  were  essen- 
tially different.  Nobody  could  describe  the  excellences  of  the  female 
character  with  more  delicacy  than  he  has  done  ;  but  as  a  man  of  gal- 
lantry, if  such  a  denomination  may  be  applied  to  him,  his  taste  was 
of  the  most  vulgar  description.  My  friend  Mr.  Donaldson,  whom  I 
have  previously  mentioned,  resided  at  Richmond  when  Thomson 
lived  at  the  same  place,  and  was  very  intimate  with  him,  as  may 
easily  be  supposed,  for  Mr.  Donaldson  was  a  scholar,  a  poet,  and  a 
wit.    Thomson,  speaking  of  Musidora,  says,  that  she  possessed 

A  pure  ingenuous  elegance  of  soul, 
A  delicate  refinement  known  to  few. 

Yet  Mr.  Donaldson  assured  me,  that  when  once  in  company  w*ith 
Thomson,  and  several  gentlemen  were  speaking  of  the  fair  sex  in  a 
sensual  manner,  Thomson  expressed  his  admiration  of  them  in  more 
beastly  terms  than  any  of  the  company,  and  such  as,  though  I  well 
remember,  I  do  not  think  proper  to  preserve.  u M 

The  most  extraordinary  fact  ia  the  history  of  this  excellent  poet  I 


THOMSON  THE  POET.  Ill 

derived  from  my  late  friend  Mr.  George  Chalmers,  whose  industry, 
research,  and  learning  are  well  known.    It  was  Mr.  Chalmers's  in- 
tention to  write  the  life  of  Thomson,  but  whether  to  introduce  into 
his  elaborate  work,  "  Caledonia,"  or  not,  I  do  not  recollect ;  he  told 
me,  however,  the  following  remarkable  fact,  on  which  he  assured  me 
I  might  confidently  depend.    Mr.  Chalmers  had  heard  that  an  old 
housekeeper  of  Thomson's  was  alive  and  still  resided  at  Richmond. 
Having  determined  to  write  a  life  of  the  celebrated  poet  of  his  coun- 
try, he  went  to  Richmond,  thinking  it  possible  he  might  obtain  some 
account  of  the  domestic  habits  of  the  poet,  and  other  anecdotes  which 
might  impart  interest  and  novelty  to  his  narration.    He  found  that 
the  old  housekeeper  had  a  good  memory,  and  was  of  a  communica- 
tive turn.    She  informed  him  Thomsor^  had  been  actually  married 
in  early  life,  but  that  his  wife  had  been  taken  by  him  merely  for  her 
person,  and  was  so  little  calculated  to  be  introduced  to  his  great 
friends,  or  indeed  his  friends  in  general,  that  he  had  kept  her  in  a 
state  of  obscurity  for  many  years,  and  when  he  at  last,  from  some 
compunctious  feelings,  required  her  to  come  and  live  with  him  at 
Richmond,  he  still  kept  her  in  the  same  secluded  state,  so  that  she 
appeared  to  be  only  one  of  the  old  domestics  of  the  family.  At 
length  his  wife,  experiencing  little  of  the  attention  of  a  husband, 
though  otherwise  provided  with  every  thing  that  could  make  her 
easy,  if  not  comfortable,  asked  his  permission  to  go  for  a  few  weeks 
to  visit  her  own  relations  in  the  north.    Thomson  gave  his  consent,, 
exacting  a  promise  that  she  would  not  reveal  her  real  situation  to  any 
of  his  or  her  own  family.    She  agreed,  but  when  she  had  advanced 
no  farther  on  her  journey  than  to  London,  she  was  there  taken  ill, 
and  in  a  short  time  died.    The  news  of  her  death  was  immediately 
conveyed  to  Thomson,  who  ordered  a  decent  funeral,  and  she  was 
buried,  as  the  old  housekeeper  said,  in  the  church-yard  of  old  Mary- 
lebone  church. 

Mr.  Chalmers,  who  was  indefatigable  in  his  inquiries,  was  not 
satisfied  with  the  old  woman's  information,  but  immediately  went 
and  examined  the  church  register,  where  he  found  the  following 
entry — "  Died,  Mary  Thomson,  a  stranger" — in  confirmation  of  the 
housekeeper's  testimony.  My  late  worthy  friend  Mr.  Malone,  I 
doubt  not,  would  not  have  been  satisfied  with  this  simple  register, 
but  would  have  pursued  the  inquiry  till  he  had  discovered  all  the 
family  of  Mary  Thomson,  the  time  of  the  marriage,  and  every  thing 
that  could  throw  a  light  on  this  mysterious  event,  important  and 
interesting  only  as  it  relates  to  a  poet  who  will  always  be  con- 
spicuous in  the  annals  of  British  literature.  Thus  we  find  that  the 
letter  from  Thomson  to  his  sister,  accounting  for  his  not  having 
married,  which  is  inserted  in  all  the  biographical  reports  of  Thomson, 
is  fallacious,  and  that  his  concealment  of  his  early  marriage  was  the 
result  of  pride  and  shame,  when  he  became  acquainted  with  Lady 
Hertford,  Lord  Lyttelton,  and  all  the  high  connexions  of  his  latter 
days. 

Mr.  Boswel),  in  his  ever-amusing,  and  I  may  add  instructive  life  cf 

F2 


112  RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Dr.  Johnson,  says,  "My  own  notion  is,  that  Thomson  was  a  much 
coarser  man  than  his  friends  are  willing  to  allow.  His  '  Seasons'  are 
indeed  full  of  elegant  and  pious  sentiments,  animated  by  a  poetic  and 
philosophic  spirit;  yet  a  rank  soil,  nay,  a  dunghill,  will  produce 
beautiful  flowers."  Boswell  never  knew  Thomson,  but  the  report  of 
the  poet's  surviving  friends,  who  would  not  suppress  the  truth,  fully 
confirms  the  account  of  Mr.  Donaldson,  who  was  personally  intimate 
with  the  bard. 

Mr.  Chalmers,  finding  that  the  old  housekeeper  retained  some  of 
the  furniture  which  had  belonged  to  Thomson,  purchased  his  break- 
fast-table, some  old-fashioned  salt-cellars  and  wine-glasses.  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  drinking  tea  with  Mr.  Chalmers  on  that  table.  I 
mentioned  this  circumstance  to  Dr.  Wolcot,  who  told  me  that  if  I 
had  any  poetry  in  my  nature  I  should  write  an  ode  on  the  subject ; 
and  in  conformity  with  this  hint,  I  wrote  the  stanzas  which  will  be 
found  in  one  of  my  printed  volumes. 

Mr.  George  Chalmers.  With  this  gentleman  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  acquainted  many  years.  He  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  and 
his  accent  strongly  indicated  his  country.  He  was  one  of  the  most 
indefatigable  writers  ever  engaged  in  literature.  He  had  been  con- 
cerned in  business  in  America,  and  had  seen  much  of  the  world. 
Though  no  man  was  better  qualified  to  examine  evidence,  and 
though  so  laborious  in  investigation,  and  anxious  for  truth,  yet  he 
seemed  on  particular  occasions  to  have  been  somewhat  too  credulous. 
For  instance,  he  conceived  that  a  young  Irishman,  named  Hugh  Boyd, 
was  the  author  of  the  celebrated  Letters  of  Junius,  though  many 
reasons  may  be  given  which  might  be  deemed  conclusive  against  his 
©pinion  and  apparently  confident  belief.  The  internal  evidence  of 
the  letters  may  be  deemed  a  satisfactory  proof  that  they  could  not 
have  been  written  by  a  young  man ;  and  the  edition  of  Junius 
published  by  Mr.  George  Woodfall,  the  son  of  the  original  publisher, 
shows  that  Junius  wrote  to  "  The  Public  Advertiser"  under  a  different 
signature,  before  he  adopted  and  adhered  to  that  of  Junius,  and  con- 
sequently as  Hugh  Boyd  was  then  younger,  he  may  reasonably  be 
supposed  to  have  been  less  qualified  by  his  time  of  life  for  the 
composition  of  letters  that  are  characterized  by  deep  knowledge  of 
mankind,  learning,  and  extensive  acquaintance  with  political  subjects. 

I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  a  daughter  of  Hugh 
Boyd,  and  from  all  she  has  informed  me  of  the  disposition  of  her 
father,  it  is  difficult  to  suppose  that  a  man  of  his  mild,  pacific,  and 
benevolent  character,  could  have  written  with  so  much  vehemence, 
acrimony,  and  venom,  as  appear  in  those  letters.  Her  brother,  who 
is  a  profound  scholar  and  a  very  elegant  poet,  as  far  as  I  could  learn 
from  Miss  Boyd,  did  not  appear  to  think  his  father  was  the  author  of 
"  Junius."  It  is  by  no  means  improbable,  that  had  Mr.  Chalmers  seen 
this  last  edition  of  "  Junius,''  with  all  the  private  letters  to  the  elder 
Mr.  Woodfall,  from  Junius,  under  various  signatures,  he  would  have 
relinquished  his  conviction  that  Hugh  Boyd  was  the  author,  and  with 
equal  zeal  have  given  another  direction  to  his  researches ;  as  he 


MR.  GEORGE  CHALMERS — MR.  GERARD  HAMILTON.  113 

•would  have  been  convinced  that  Hugh  Boyd  had  neither  experience 
nor  opportunity  to  derive  information  sufficient  for  the  composition 
of  these  letters. 

Mr.  Chalmers  was  at  first  a  believer  in  Ireland's  fabrications  of  the 
pretended  "  Shakspeare  Papers,"  but  was  ensnared  with  many  other 
learned  and  able  men.  However,  on  farther  inquiry  and  reflection 
he  recanted,  and  appeared  to  greater  advantage  than  those  who 
originally  doubted :  for  some  of  the  most  hostile  opponents  would 
not  even  inspect  the  specious  documents,  displaying  prejudice  rather 
than  caution ;  Mr.  Chalmers,  on  the  contrary,  fairly  stated  his 
grounds  for  belief,  and  supported  them  by  such  arguments  as  justified 
those  who  had  at  first  confided  in  the  validity  of  the  imposition. 

Although  so  zealous  and  persevering  an  inquirer,  Mr.  Chalmers 
was,  however,  inclined  to  retain  his  opinion  respecting  Hugh  Boyd ; 
for  he  assured  me,  a  gentleman  who  had  met  Boyd  in  the  East 
Indies  positively  told  him  that  Boyd  had  acknowledged  to  him  that 
he  was  really  the  author  of  "  Junius,"  though  he  had  reasons  for  not 
divulging  the  secret  while  he  was  in  England.  It  is  hardly  possible 
to  conceive  that  so  shrewd  and  intelligent  a  man  as  Mr.  Chalmers 
should  have  placed  any  confidence  in  such  a  testimony.  How  many 
persons  are  there  in  the  world  who  would  confess  themselves  to  be 
Junius,  if  they  thought  any  reliance  would  be  placed  on  their  declara- 
tion !  The  Rev.  Mr.  Rozenhagen  was  one  of  the  rumoured  candi- 
dates for  that  honour ;  and  so  wide  and  confident  was  the  report, 
that  my  ingenious  friend  Mr.  James  Sayers,  the  author  of  "  Elijah's 
Mantle,"  so  erroneously  attributed  to  Mr.  Canning,  published  an 
etching  of  Mr.  Rozenhagen,  with*  a  paper  half  out  of  his  pocket,  on 
which  was  inscribed  the  word  Junius. 

The  story  relating  to  Mr.  Gerard  Hamilton,  generally  styled 
single-speech  Hamilton,  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  though  well 
known  may  be  repeated  in  this  place.  It  seems  that  Mr.  Hamilton 
had  called  on  Mr.  Sampson  Woodfall,  who  in  the  confidence  of 
friendship  had  shown  him  a  letter  from  Junius,  which  Mr.  Woodfall 
said  was  to  appear  in  "  The  Public  Advertiser"  next  day.  Mr. 
Hamilton  called  on  the  Duke  of  Richmond  the  following  morning, 
and  relying  on  what  Mr.  Woodfall  had  said,  informed  his  grace  that 
there  was  a  letter  from  Junius  in  "  The  Public  Advertiser"  of  that 
day,  repeating  as  much  as  he  recollected  of  its  contents.  As  soon  as 
Mr.  Hamilton  left  his  grace,  the  duke  sent  immediately  for  "  The 
Public  Advertiser,"  but  by  some  accident  the  letter  was  not  published, 
and  instead  of  it  there  was  an  apology  from  the  printer  for  being 
obliged  to  postpone  it  to  the  following  day.  This  circumstance 
naturally  induced  the  duke  to  suspect  Hamilton  to  be  Junius,  and 
hence  the  report  gained  ground  that  he  was  really  the  author. 
Hamilton,  however,  resolutely  denied  that  he  had  any  concern  in  the 
letters;  and  in  order  to  avert  what  he  affected  to  consider  a 
degrading  imputation,  he  even  spoke  of  them  as  literary  compositions 
of  little  value. 

Another  circumstance  which  tended  to  diffuse  the  suspicion  tha$ 


114 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Hamilton  was  the  author  occurred  at  Brooks's  club.  The  subject  of 
conversation  turned  on  Junius's  letters,  in  one  of  the  rooms  at  that 
celebrated  resort  of  the  opposition  wits,  and  Charles  Fox,  whose 
voice  was  shrill  and  piercing,  spoke  very  lightly  of  them.  The 
adjoining  room  was  open,  and  whoever  was  there  might  easily  hear 
all  that  passed  in  the  other.  It  happened  that  Hamilton  was  the 
only  person  in  the  adjoining  room  during  this  conversation,  and  it 
was  therefore  probable  he  had  heard  what  passed.  Hamilton  and 
Fox  had  previously  been  upon  very  friendly  terms,  but  it  was 
observed  that  from  that  day  he  behaved  towards  Fox  with  great 
coolness,  and  sometimes  seemed  purposely  to  avoid  him.  This  fact, 
coupled  with  what  happened  at  the  Duke  of  Richmond's,  induced 
many  of  the  members  of  Brooks's  club  to  believe  that  Hamilton  was 
really  Junius.  1  learned  this  story  from  my  friend  Joe  Richardson, 
who  was  a  member  of  the  club.  Perhaps  among  all  the  persons  to 
whom  the  reputation  of  Junius  has  been  attributed,  no  coincidence 
of  events  has  brought  the  suspicion  so  near  to  any  individual  as  to 
Hamilton. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mr.  Arthur  Murphy.  It  was  no  slight  advantage  to  me  to 
have  known  this  gentleman  intimately  for  many  years,  as  I  derived 
much  knowledge  of  the  world  from  his  sagacity  and  experience. 
No  person  was  better  acquainted  with  mankind.  I  observed  him 
attentively  and  studied  his  character.  In  the  earlier  part  of  his  life, 
1  understood  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  remarkably  well-bred, 
insomuch  that  he  was  said  to  have  realized  Dr.  Johnson's  notion  of 
a  fine  gentleman.  However,  when  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
him,  he  had  contracted  something  of  Johnson's  positive,  though  not 
his  dictatorial  manner. 

The  chief  reason  why  the  doctor  thought  Mr.  Murphy  so  well-bred 
was,  that  he  never  ventured  to  oppose  his  opinions  directly,  but 
covertly  expressed  his  own.  If  Johnson  dogmatically  urged  an  argu- 
ment to  which  Murphy  did  not  agree,  the  latter  used  to  say,  "  But, 
doctor,  may  it  not  be  said  in  answer" — and  then  stated  his  own 
opinion.  "  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  sometimes,  "  it  may,  by  a  fool  f 
and  sometimes  with  more  courtesy,  "  Yes,  sir,  but  with  more  plausi- 
bility than  truth."  On  other  occasions,  when  Johnson  was  vehement 
in  delivering  his  sentiments,  Mr.  Murphy  used  to  say,  "  I  think,  doctor, 
a  French  author,  much  esteemed,  was  not  of  your  opinion.  He  says, 
as  well  as  I  remember" — and  then  Mr.  Murphy  again  covertly  de- 
livered his  own  opinions.  The  doctor's  answer  was  generally,  "Well, 
sir,  the  French  literati  are  a  learned  and  intelligent  body,  and  their 
opinions  should  not  be  hastily  rejected."    By  these  means  Mr» 


MR.  ARTHUR  MURPHY. 


115 


Murphy  declared  that  the  doctor  was  prevented  from  ever  having 
answered  him  with  direct  rudeness  on  any  occasion,  though  Mr. 
Murphy  never  servilely  submitted  to  his  dictates. 

Mr.  Murphy  told  me  that  his  respect  for  Johnson  induced  him  to 
have  recourse  to  these  expedients,  and  that  even  when  he  perfectly 
agreed  with  him,  he  used  to  adopt  the  same  plan,  in  order  to  see  how 
far  the  doctor  was  able  to  press  and  illustrate  his  arguments.  Bos- 
well,  with  all  his  subserviency  to  Johnson,  sometimes  opposed  him  so 
bluntly,  and  consequently  suffered  under  the  doctor's  formidable  re- 
bukes to  such  a  degree,  that  Mr.  Murphy  said  he  had  seen  him  leave 
the  room  in  tears.  Mr.  Cooke,  the  old  barrister,  described  the  tre- 
mendous force  of  Johnson's  reproofs  in  the  same  manner,  and  used 
to  add  that  there  was  no  living'  with  him  without  implicit  submission. 
Fortunately  for  Johnson,  Murphy  was  intimately  connected  with  the 
Thrale  family,  to  whom  he  introduced  the  doctor,  who,  in  conse- 
quence, passed  many  of  his  years  under  their  kind  protection. 

Mr.  Murphy  could  not  bear  to  recollect  that  he  had  ever  been  on 
the  stage,  and  I  remember  to  have  been  present  when  he  was  read- 
ing a  sketch  of  his  life,  in  a  periodical  work  entitled  "  The  Monthly 
Mirror;"  coming  to  the  passage  which  alluded  to  his  acting,  he 
passed  it  over  with  a  peevish  interjection,  and  proceeded  to  the  rest 
of  the  article.  He  was  most  brutally  treated  by  Churchill,  who,  in- 
deed, paid  no  respect  to  persons  if  they  happened  to  differ  from  him 
in  politics.  Murphy,  however,  at  length  answered  him  and  other 
enemies  in  a  vigorous  poem,  which  excited  the  approbation  of  Dr. 
Johnson. 

Mr.  Murphy  was  too  apt  to  quarrel  with  theatrical  managers  and 
booksellers,  and  this  he  did  with  Garrick,  whom  he  idolized  as  an  ac- 
tor, but  certainly  never  liked  as  a  man.  It  is  strange  that  when  he 
mentioned  Garrick,  it  was  always  in  the  following  manner :  "  Off  the 
stage  he  was  a  little  sneaking  rascal*  but  on  the  stage,  oh,  my  great 
God !"  I  have  heard  him  utter  these  words  several  times  during 
the  same  evening  without  any  variation. 

The  original  ground  of  difference  arose  from  Garrick's  having 
promised  to  bring  forward  Murphy's  first  play,  "  The  Orphan  of 
China,"  and  then  rejected  it.  Owing,  however,  to  the  friendly  inter- 
position of  Lord  Holland,  the  father  of  Charles  Fox,  the  play  was 
represented,  and  with  great  success,  Garrick  performing  the  chief 
character.  Mr.  Murphy,  in  his  "  Life  of  Garrick,"  relates  a  kind 
artifice  which  Lord  Holland  adopted  to  obtain  Garrick's  consent. 
In  that  "Life"  he  speaks  with  great  respect  of  Garrick's  private 
character,  though  he  mentioned  him  so  harshly  in  conversation. 

Another  ground  of  difference  between  them  arose  from  the  suc- 
cess of  the  admirable  farce  of  "  High  Life  Below  Stairs."  Murphy 
had  presented  a  farce  to  Garrick  on  the  same  subject,  and  said  he 
was  convinced  that  Garrick  borrowed  the  plot  from  his  farce,  but, 
fearful  of  his  resentment,  induced  Mr.  Townley,  one  of  the  Masters 
of  Merchant  Tailors'  School,  to  appear  as  the  author.  If  that,  how- 
ever, was  really  the  fact,  why  did  not  Murphy  publish  his  own  farce, 


116 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


as  he  never  was  accustomed  to  suppress  his  resentments,  except,  per- 
haps, that  Garrick  had  improved  so  much  on  the  original  conception, 
that  he  did  not  think  proper  to  hazard  the  comparison  ? 

Mr.  Murphy  was  a  liberal  admirer  of  other  writers.  He  told  me 
that  he  was  formerly  a  constant  visiter  at  a  bookseller's  shop  at  the 
Mews-gate,  kept  by  Mr.  Paine,  whose  son  is  now  in  partnership  with 
Mr.  Foss,  in  Pall  Mall.  He  further  assured  me,  that  his  chief  reason 
for  frequenting  that  place,  which  was  the  principal  resort  of  literary 
characters  at  the  time,  had  been  to  listen  to  the  conversation  of  Dr. 
Akenside,  while  he  himself  pretended  to  be  reading  a  book.  He 
said  that  nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the  poet's  conversa- 
tion. I  asked  him  if  he  ever  became  acquainted  with  him,  and  he 
answered  in  the  negative.  I  then  asked  him  why  he  had  not  endeav- 
oured to  make  himself  known  to  so  eminent  a  man,  as  he  was  him- 
self a  scholar,  and  well  known  as  a  dramatic  writer.  "  Oh !"  said 
he,  "  I  had  only  written  farces,  and  the  doctor  would  not  have  con- 
descended to  notice  me."  This  modest  delicacy  shows  that  he  had 
no  overweening  confidence  in  his  own  powers.  He  assured  me  that 
he  had  read  "  The  Pleasures  of  Imagination"  twenty-three  times,  and 
always  with  new  pleasure. 

Mr.  Murphy  was  the  translator  of  Marmontel's  "  Belisarius."  He 
received  the  original,  sheet  by  sheet,  from  Paris,  and  the  translation 
was  published  in  London  as  soon  as  the  original  appeared  in  that 
capital.  During  the  French  revolution,  and  the  threatening  progress 
of  French  principles  in  this  country,  Mr.  Murphy  published  a  trans- 
lation of  Sallust's  "  History  of  Catiline's  Conspiracy,  with  the  four 
Orations  of  Cicero."  This  work  he  dedicated  to  the  Earl  of  Laud- 
erdale, who  was  then  a  very  conspicuous  character  in  public.  The 
dedication  severely  animadverts  upon  his  lordship's  political  conduct, 
and  there  are  many  notes  and  illustrations  of  the  same  tendency. 
My  late  friend  Mr.  John  Giftbrd,  the  magistrate,  addressed  letters  to 
Lord  Lauderdale  about  the  same  period,  and  they  form  a  masterly 
examination  of  his  lordship's  political  character  and  conduct. 

Murphy  published  his  translation  of  Sallust  under  the  name  of 
George  Frederick  Sydney,  and  dated  it  from  Bristol,  conceiving  that 
such  an  appellation  had  a  true  British  sound ;  but  a  whimsical  cir- 
cumstance occurred,  for  a  person  of  that  name  called  upon  the  pub- 
lisher, and  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  liberty  he  had  taken  in  affix- 
ing his  name  to  the  work. 

Mr.  Murphy's  translation  of  "  Tacitus"  is  well  known,  and,  I  be- 
lieve, generally  approved.  He  used  to  style  it  "  a  jail-delivery  of 
Tacitus  from  Gordon."  He  might  probably  have  received  a  liberal 
recompense  if  he  had  dedicated  this  work  to  the  Marquis  of  Lans- 
down,  who  was  conspicuous  in  the  political  world  at  the  time,  having 
received  a  hint  to  that  effect  from  his  lordship ;  but  he  determined,, 
though  then  in  a  situation  which  would  have  rendered  a  pecuniary 
supply  peculiarly  acceptable,  to  dedicate  it  to  his  old  friend  Edmund 
Burke.  He  presented  me  with  a  copy  of  that  work,  and  also  with 
his  "  Life  of  Johnson,"  as  well  as  his  translation  of  Sallust.  The 


MR.  ARTHUR.  MURPHY. 


117 


latter  work  was  published  in  the  year  1795.  The  following  passage 
in  his  dedication  to  Lord  Lauderdale  is  worth  extraction.  "  The 
French,  my  lord,  are  under  great  obligations  to  the  present  oppo- 
sition :  it  is  not  known  that  they  are  willing  to  treat,  and  yet  motion 
after  motion  is  made  to  force  his  majesty's  ministers  to  sue  for  peace 
to  a  people  who  are  still  in  a  state  of  anarchy.  It  is  a  maxim  of 
Livy,  the  great  Roman  historian,  that  war  is  preferable  to  a  bad 
peace :  Miseram  pacem  vel  hello  bene  mutari :  but  the  present  war, 
your  lordship  says,  is  likely  to  be  attended  with  some  dreadful  disas- 
ter. For  this  reason,  two  notable  opinions  are  assigned :  first,  because 
the  French  have  superior  skill  in  ship-building :  secondly,  because  we 
have  seen  that  the  want  of  saltpetre  can  be  supplied  by  exertion. 
Without  entering  into  a  discussion  of  these  points,lt  will  be  sufficient 
to  say,  that  some  of  the  best  ships  in  the  British  navy  were  built  in 
France  ;  and  as  to  the  second  assertion,  Lord  Howe,  Admiral  Hotham, 
Sir  John  Borlase  Warren,  Sir  Edward  Pellew,  and  other  gallant 
officers,  have  proved,  if  the  French  have  saltpetre,  that  they  do  not 
know  how  to  use  it." 

After  Mr.  Murphy  had  quitted  the  bar,  and  resigned  his  first 
commissionership  of  bankrupts,  he  lived  in  retirement  and  neglect. 
He  was  always  improvident  in  money  matters,  and  at  one  time  his 
chief  means  of  support  were  founded  on  the  expectation  of  selling 
the  copyright  of  a  complete  collection  of  his  works,  and  his  trans- 
lation of  Tacitus.  In  this  situation  he  found  it  necessary  to  dispose 
of  a  part  of  his  valuable  library ;  and  here  I  must  relate  an  incident 
of  an  affecting  kind,  at  which  I  was  present.  He  called  upon  the 
late  Mr.  Coutts,  the  eminent  banker,  in  the  Strand,  and  tendered  a 
part  of  his  library  to  that  gentleman  for  three  hundred  pounds.  Mr. 
Coutts  told  him  that  he  had  no  time  for  books,  and  did  not  want  to 
buy  more  than  he  had  ;  but  said, "  It  shall  make  no  difference  to  you, 
Mr.  Murphy,  as  you  shall  find  when  you  take  this  down  to  the  office," 
presenting  him  with  a  draft  for  that  sum.  Mr.  Murphy  was  so  over- 
come by  his  feelings,  that,  after  taking  a  grateful  leave  of  Mr.  Coutts, 
he  hurried  to  the  Sun  office,  in  the  Strand,  and  entered  the  room 
where  Mr.  Heriot,  then  principal  proprietor  of  the  Sun  newspaper, 
Mr.  Freeling,  now  Sir  Francis,  and  myself  were  present.  He  en- 
tered the  room  hastily,  with  the  draft  in  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  full  of 
tears,  and  related  this  generous  act  of  Mr.  Coutts.  Mr.  Freeling 
was  then  a  stranger  to  Mr.  Murphy,  whose  gratitude  was  so-  strong 
that  he  was  unable  to  suppress  or  control  it.  Mr.  Murphy  afterward, 
as  some  return  to  Mr.  Coutts  for  this  act  of  kindness,  dedicated  his 
Life  of  Garrick  to  him,  with  suitable  expressions  of  esteem,  respect, 
and  gratitude. 

Mr.  Jesse  Foot,  in  his  "  Life  of  Murphy,"  says,  "  For  the  last  seven 
years  he  was  far  removed  from  want.  A  legacy  of  one  thousand 
pounds,  from  his  relation  Mrs.  Ford,  came  very  acceptably.  His  ap- 
pointment as  commissioner  of  bankrupts,  and  his  sale  of  '  The  Life 
of  Garrick'  followed.  His  generous  allowance  from  Mrs.  Plunkett 
followed  that,  and  lastly  came  his  pension  from  the  crown."  When 

F3 


118  RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Mr.  Murphy  was  placed  in  this  comfortable  situation,  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  dining  with  him,  in  company  with  Mr.  Foot  and  a  few  friends, 
at  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Tavern,  in  the  vicinity  of  Sloane-street. 
Before  dinner  he  read  to  us  the  conclusion  of  "  The  Life  of  Garrick  " 
in  which,  in  a  masterly  manner,  he  has  reviewed  his  character  as  a 
manager,  an  actor,  an  author,  and  a  private  gentleman,  paying  in  ail 
Ihe  highest  tribute  to  his  memory. 

I  cite  the  following  passage  from  Mr.  Foot's  life  referring  to  this 
occasion : — "  I  never  shall  forget  that  when  the  chief  of  the  company 
had  departed,  he,  Mr.  Taylor,  and  myself  took  a  turn  into  Sloane- 
street,  just  as  the  full  moon  appeared  above  the  horizon,  and  without 
preparing  us  at  all  for  it,  he  threw  himself  into  a  fine  dramatic  atti- 
tude, and  recited  in  the  most  impressive  manner  Pope's  description 
of  the  moon  of  Homer." 

I  remember  being  as  much  struck  as  Mr.  Foot  was  at  the  grand 
and  graceful  manner  in  which  Mr.  Murphy  recited  this  beautiful  pas- 
sage; and  if  I  wrere  to  judge  from  it  of  his  powers  as  an  actor,  I 
should  conclude  that  Churchill's  description  of  his  theatrical  talents 
was  the  mere  effusion  of  political  malignity.  He  was  an  admirable 
reader,  as  I  had  a  good  opportunity  of  knowing,  for  he  invited  me  to 
dine  with  him  tete-a-tete  at  Hammersmith,  and  read  to  me  one  of  his 
manuscript  tragedies  ;  and  without  the  least  pomp  or  affectation,  he 
appeared  to  me  to  be  able  to  do  justice  to  any  author  in  theatrical 
performance.  His  voice  was  firm  and  well-toned,  and  capable  of 
adapting  itself  to  every  change  of  passion,  particularly  as  his  figure  in 
the  meridian  of  life  must  have  been  lofty  and  commanding.  It  is 
evident  that  he  thought  he  possessed  talents  for  the  stage,  as  he 
adopted  the  theatrical  profession  at  the  time  when  Garrick  was  in  the 
meridian  of  his  powers,  and  the  object  of  Murphy's  highest  admi- 
ration. Wedderburne  must  have  been  intimate  with  him  during  the 
time  that  he  was  on  the  stage,  as  may  be  inferred  from  Churchill's 
having  described  the  former  as 

The  pert,  prim  prater  of  the  northern  race, 
Guilt  in  his  heart,  and  famine  in  his  face. 

He  was  mentioned  in  "  The  Rosciad"  as -the  advocate  for  Mr.  Mur- 
phy in  his  pretensions  to  the  theatrical  chair.  Wedderburne,  when 
he  became  Lord  Loughborough  and  lord-chancellor,  appointed 
Murphy  commissioner  of  bankrupts,  which  office  after  some  years 
he  resigned,  but  not  being  prosperous  in  other  pursuits,  he  applied 
for  it  again  and  was  reinstated. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  his  lordship  did  not  appoint  him  a  master 
in  chancery,  as  the  noble  lord  knew  how  careless  he  was  in  money 
matters,  for  he  was  well  qualified  for  the  situation,  and  then  he  would 
have  had  a  comfortable  provision  for  life.  His  third  appointment  as 
commissioner  of  bankrupts,  after  he  had  twice  resigned  the  situation, 
was  given  to  him  by  Lord  Eldon ;  and  when  he  tendered  his  third 
resignation  to  that  nobleman,  his  lordship  advised  him  in  a  kind  letter 
to  retain  it,  observing  that  no  doubt  some  of  his  brother  commis- 


MR.  ARTHUR  MURPITY. 


sioners  would  relieve  him  in  its  duties,  and  adding  that  he  should 
take  no  notice  of  his  resignation  unless  he  repeated  it.  Mr.  Murphy 
did  so,  and  then  devoted  himself  wholly  to  literary  pursuits.* 

During  this  period  of  retirement  he  used  when  in  town  to  sleep  at 
Old  Slaughter's  Coffee-house,  where  Holman,  Morton,  Reynolds, 
Fawcett,  and  myself,  often  assembled  at  night.  One  evening,  when 
we  were  full  of  mirth  and  nonsense,  Mr.  Murphy,  who  was  in  a  bor 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  joined  us,  and  of  course,  out  of  respect 
to  him,  the  party  would  have  restrained  their  wild  gayety,  but  that  the 
irresistible  force  of  habit  prevented.  Puns  and  satirical  attacks  upon 
each  other  constituted  the  conversation,  which  Mr.  Murphy  bore 
patiently  for  some  time.  At  length  he  said,  "  1  don't  like  this  push- 
pin work ;  let  us  have  something  rational."  Finding  us  however 
incorrigible,  he  grew  peevish,  and  when  I  said,  u  Ah,  Mr.  Murphy, 
you  and  I  have  passed  some  happy  hours,  different  from  these,"  he 
said  vehemently,  44  Never,  sir  !"  and  hastily  withdrew  to  bed.  We 
all  agreed  to  meet  together  on  the  following  night,  but,  unwilling  to 
annoy  him  again  with  our  levity,  we  determined  to  assemble  at  New 
Slaughter's  Coffee-house ;  when  however  we  met,  there  we  found 
Mr.  Murphy,  who  had  come  there  to  avoid  us.  He  kept  at  a  distance 
till  he  had  taken  a  candle  and  was  going  to  bed  ;  he  however  came 
up  to  our  box,  as  if  to  bid  us  good  night,  and  I  having  said,  44  Mr. 
Murphy,  you  are  treating  us  lightly"  pointing  to  the  candle,  he 
abruptly  left  us,  and  we  heard  him  saying  to  himself  all  the  way  up 
the  stairs,  44  Treating  them  lightly — treating  them  lightly  !" 

In  contrast  to  this  sportive  folly,  I  may  mention  a  coffee-house  ad- 
venture relating  to  Mr.  Murphy,  which,  according  to  report,  had  a 
melancholy  termination.  A  Mr.  Fazakerly  was  one  evening  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Jesse  Foot,  and  other  gentlemen,  in  a  box  at  Jack's 
Coffee-house  in  Dean-street,  Soho,  contiguous  to  Mr.  Foot's  resi- 
dence. Mr.  Fazakerly  introduced  the  subject  of  Mr.  Murphy,  and 
spoke  contemptuously  of  his  talents.  Mr.  Foot  warmly  advocated 
his  friend,  as  a  scholar  and  able  dramatic  writer.  The  controversy 
produced  high  words,  and  Mr.  Foot  left  the  box,  but,  as  he  Was 
going,  Mr.  Fazakerly  made  use  of  some  opprobrious  epithet.  Mr. 
Foot  suddenly  stopped,  and  asked  him  if  he  applied  the  word  to  him 
or  to  Mr.  Murphy  ?  Mr.  Fazakerly  answered  equivocally,  and  Mr, 
Foot  then  retorted  some  opprobrious  epithet  on  him ;  Mr.  Fazakerly 
immediately  left  the  box,  and  a  scuffle  ensued,  in  which  Mr.  Foot 
knocked  him  down,  and  kept  him  on  the  ground,  saying,  44 1  am  a 
professional  man,  and  do  not  choose  to  be  disfigured  ;  1  therefore  will 
not  let  you  get  up  unless^you  promise  not  to  strike  me,  but  to  end  the 
quarrel  in  a  more  gentlemanly  manner."  Mr.  Fazakerly  made  the 
promise,  then  arose  and  returned  to  his  box.    Mr.  Foot  went  to  hi* 

*  I  have  satisfactory  reasons  for  believing  that  Lord  Sidmouth,  to  smooth  the  de- 
clining days  of  Mr.  Murphy,  procured  a  pension  for  him,  as  a  steady  friend  and 
ixealoua  supporter  of  our  unrivalled  constitution,  but  to  what  amount  I  have  not 
heard.  It  was  but  a  just  reward  for  learning  and  talents  always  employed  far  the 
amusement  of  the  public  or  the  interest  of  the  country. 


120 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


home  in  the  same  street,  and  expecting  a  hostile  message  the  next 
day,  was  prepared  to  receive  it,  and  immediately  requested  a  gentle- 
man named  Leigh  to  be  his  second.  A  full  week,  however,  passed 
before  Mr.  Foot  heard  from  his  opponent,  but  then  received  a  chal- 
lenge. He  consulted  some  friends,  among  others  a  military  officer, 
and  they  all  agreed  that  as  Mr.  Foot  had  been  kept  so  many  days  in 
suspense,  he  had  a  right  to  refuse  a  challenge  which  had  been  so 
long  withheld.  This  opinion  of  his  friends  he  conveyed  to  his  adver- 
sary, of  whom  he  heard  no  more,  but  that  he  had  gone  into  the 
country,  and  rinding  the  story  had  reached  the  neighbourhood,  and 
made  an  impression  unfavourable  to  him,  had  sunk  into  dejection, 
and  after  a  few  days,  during  which  his  depression  increased,  had  died 
suddenly.  Such  was  the  report.  Mr.  Foot  always  spoke  of  him 
with  respect  and  regret,  as  a  learned,  intelligent,  and  worthy  man  ; 
and  appeared  deeply  to  lament  the  unhappy  difference  that  took 
place  between  them. 

Mr.  Murphy  once  proposed  that  we  should  write  periodical  essays 
together,  in  the  manner  of  his  own  "  Gray's  Inn  Journal,"  that  we 
might,  as  he  said,  be  "  a  kind  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher."  I  assured 
him  that  I  had  no  tendency  towards  essay-writing,  and  that  however 
proud  I  should  be  in  joining  my  name  with  his  in  any  literary  enter- 
prise, I  must  decline  his  flattering  proposal  for  that  species  of  compo- 
sition. He  told  me  that  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  he  could  suggest 
a  few  expedients  which  would  qualify  me  to  write  as  well  in  that 
manner  as  in  any  other.  The  plan,  however,  was  never  carried  into 
effect,  and  Mr.  Murphy  then  devoted  his  attention  to  his  "  Life  of 
Garrick." 

Mr.  Foot,  with  all  his  partiality  to  Mr.  Murphy,  speaks  of  that  work- 
as  slight,  scanty,  and  not  upon  a  level  with  his  other  compositions  \ 
but  the  truth  is,  that  he  began  too  long  after  the  death  of  the  great 
English  Roscius,  and  too  late  in  life.  The  criticisms,  however,  which 
he  has  introduced  on  tne  several  plays  that  were  brought  forward 
during  the  management  of  Garrick,  are  sound  and  just,  as  well  as- 
candid,  and  manifest  a  truly  liberal  exemption  from  all  literary 
rivalry. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  celebrated  Miss  Elliot,  whom  Mr.  Mur- 
phy first  brought  forward  upon  the  stage  in  the  character  of  Maria* 
in  his  farce  of  "  The  Citizen,"  lived  for  some  time  under  his  protec- 
tion, to  adopt  the  lenient  phrase  usual  on  such  occasions.  He  lived 
with  her  in  a  cottage  near  Richmond,  and  she  resided  there  while  he 
went  upon  the  circuit.  Returning  unexpectedly  on  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, he  found  a  fine  haunch  of  venison  roasting  at  the  fire.  Upon 
inquiry,  he  found  that  the  Earl  of  Bristol  was  a  constant  visiter  to 
the  lady,  and  expected  to  dine  there  that  day.  This  circumstance 
put  an  end  at  once  to  the  connexion,  and  to  his  rural  retirement.  The 
lady  at  length  lived  under  the  protection  of  a  member  of  the  royal 
family,  now  deceased  ;  Mr.  Murphy  never  withdrew  his  countenance 
from  her,  and  she  was  glad  to  retain  so  valuable  a  friend.  At  her 
desire  her  royal  admirer  permitted  Mr.  Murphy  to  visit  her  when  he 

\ , 


MISS  ELLIOT — MR.  ARTHUR  MURPHY. 


121 


Tvas  at  home,  and  was  much  pleased  with  his  conversation.  Mr. 
Murphy  assured  me  that  he  was  a  more  intelligent  character  than 
was  generally  supposed.  Miss  Elliot  died  in  this  situation,  and  such 
was  her  regard  for  Mr.  Murphy,  that  she  would  have  left  the  bulk  of 
her  property  to  him,  but  he  declined  it,  and  took  care  to  secure  it 
for  her  relations,  of  whom  one,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  was  her  sister. 
By  all  accounts  she  was  one  of  the  most  original  and  spirited  actresses 
that  ever  appeared  upon  the  stage. 

The  late  Mr.  Philip  Champion  Crespigny,  King's  Proctor,  com- 
municated to  me  the  following  incident  respecting  Miss  Elliot.  A 
gentleman,  a  friend  of  his,  a  member  of  parliament,  but  not  ready  in 
conversation,  had  made  an  appointment  with  a  lady  to  sup  with  him 
at  a  tavern,  and  requested  him  to  be  of  the  party,  as  he  was  lively 
and  would  keep  conversation  afloat.  Mr.  Crespigny  agreed,  and 
they  went  together  to  the  tavern.  The  waiter  told  him  that  the  lady 
was  up-stairs,  and  conducted  them  to  the  room,  but  no  lady  appeared, 
and  they  remained  wondering  what  had  become  of  her ;  while  they 
were  speculating  on  the  cause  of  her  absence,  she  suddenly  burst 
laughing  from  a  closet  in  which  she  had  hid  herself.  Mr.  Crespigny 
added  that  he  knew  her  immediately,  as  he  remembered  her  to  have 
been  servant  of  a  lady  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting,  before 
her  beauty  had  betrayed  her  into  that  unfortunate  mode  of  life  in 
which  she  became  first  known  as  Miss  Elliot  to  Mr.  Murphy,  whose 
kindness,  attention,  and  assiduity  enabled  her  to  maintain  herself  by 
her  talents,  and  to  become  a  distinguished  support  of  the  comic  stage, 
Miss  Elliot  was  upon  the  stage  before  my  time,  or  rather  before  I 
began  to  pay  much  attention  to  theatrical  amusements.  From  all  I 
can  learn  she  had  as  much  vivacity  as  the  late  Mrs.  Jordan,  but  with 
a  more  graceful  and  elegant  manner.  This  superiority  on  her  part  is 
the  more  extraordinary,  as  Miss  Elliot  was  in  her  early  life  totally 
destitute  of  education,  and  Mrs.  Jordan,  from  her  family  connexions, 
had  the  common  advantages  of  female  cultivation  and  accom- 
plishments. 

I  was  often  invited  to  dine  with  Mr.  Murphy  during  what  may  be 
styled  his  retirement  at  Knightsbridge,  and  by  his  desire  Mrs.  Taylor 
was  several  times  of  the  party.  His  dinners  were  well  chosen,  and 
without  ostentation.  At  length  his  end  was  evidently  approaching, 
He  appointed  Mr.  Jesse  Foot  his  sole  executor.  On  his  death,  Mr. 
Foot  invited  me,  as  one  of  Mr.  Murphy's  oldest,  or  rather  most  inti- 
mate friends,  to  his  funeral.  The  late  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley  wrote 
to  Mr.  Foot,  requesting  that  he  and  Mr.  Denis  O'Brien  might  be  per- 
mitted to  join  in  the  last  testimonies  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Mr. 
Murphy,  signifying  that  he  should  not  occasion  any  additional  expense, 
as  he  should  bring  Mr.  O'Brien  in  his  own  carriage.  Mr.  Foot  of 
course  consented,  and  they  attended  the  last  ceremonies  at  Hammer- 
smith. Whether  there  was  anybody  besides  Mr.  Foot  and  myself  in 
the  mourning-coach,  I  cannot  now  recollect,  and  Mr.  Foot  has  not 
mentioned  in  his  Life  of  Mr.  Murphy.  Among  many  letters  from  Mr. 
Murphy,  I  shall  select  one,  as  it  is  gratifying  to  show  that  so  eminent 
a  man  was  not  indifferent  to  my  welfare. 


122 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


My  dear  Taylor, 
I  have  been  in  daily  expectation  of  your  answer  to  my  last  letter, 
but  disappointed  as  I  am,  I  now  feel  myself  greatly  alarmed.  I  am 
afraid  that  illness  has  occasioned  your  silence,  and  shall  not  be  easy 
till  I  have  some  account  of  you.  If  writing  is  likely  to  be  a  fatigue  to 
you,  pray  desire  your  lady,  or  some  friend,  to  favour  me  with  a  line, 
that  I  may  not  thus  remain  in  suspense. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend,  and 

Believe  me,  yours  unalterably, 

Arthur  Murphy. 

No.  14  Knightsbridge, 
8th  May,  1804. 

Having  mentioned  Mrs.  Jordan,  I  will  not  deny  myself  the  plea* 
sure  of  saying  a  few  words  of  respect  and  regret.  Though  she  did 
not  find  me  among  her  warm  admirers  when  she  first  came  upon  the 
London  stage,  she  was  not  offended  at  my  remarks  on  her  acting, 
but  had  good  sense  enough  to  prefer  sincerity  to  adulation.  Mrs. 
Jordan,  though  so  full  of  spirit,  and  apparently  of  self-confidence,  was 
by  no  means  vain  of  her  acting.  I  remember  sitting  with  her  one 
night  in  the  green-room  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  when  she  was 
about  to  perform  the  part  of  Rosalind,  in  "  As  you  like  it."  I  hap- 
pened to  mention  an  actor  who  had  recently  appeared  with  wonderful 
success,  and  expressed  my  surprise  at  the  public  taste  in  this  instance. 
"  Oh  !  Mr.  Taylor,  don't  mention  public  taste,"  said  she,  "  for  if  the 
public  had  any  taste,  how  could  they  bear  me  in  the  part  which  I 
play  to-night,  and  which  is  far  above  my  habits  and  pretensions?" 
Yet  this  was  one  of  the  characters  in  which  she  was  so  popular. 

Mrs.  Jordan  had  a  great  deal  of  humour,  and  related  anecdotes 
with  much  spirit.  She  took  in  good  part,  and  unaffectedly,  any  com- 
ments on  her  acting.  In  my  opinion,  if  she  had  cultivated  her  talents 
for  plaintive  characters,  and  had  studied  more  the  graces  of  de- 
meanour, she  would  have  been  a  very  interesting  representative  of 
the  pathetic  parts  of  tragedy,  while  her  genuine  comic  genius  would 
have  qualified  her  to  do  justice  to  the  elegant  gayety  of  Rosalind,  as 
well  as  for  the  intriguing  artifice  of  the  Country  Wife.  The  distress 
which  she  suffered  abroad  is  affectingly  described  by  Sir  Jonah  Bar- 
rington,  in  his  very  entertaining  Reminiscences ;  but  this  distress  must 
have  resulted  from  some  unfortunate  mistake  or  misconception,  for 
while  she  was  abroad,  Mr.  Barton,  an  officer  in  the  Royal  Mint,  and 
private  secretary  to  an  illustrious  personage,  assured  me,  that  he  had 
2500/.  at  her  disposal  whenever  she  demanded  it ;  and  Mr.  Barton's 
character  for  integrity,  as  well  as  high  scientific  attainments,  is  held 
in  the  utmost  respect. 


MRS.  MACAULAY. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Mrs.  Macaulay,  the  historian.  This  lady  was  the  sister  of 
Alderman  Sawbridge,  and  agreed  with  him  in  all  his  republican 
notions.  According  to  report,  she  was  almost  as  fond  of  cards  as 
her  brother  the  alderman  was  of  politics.  One  evening,  as  she  was 
playing  at  whist,  she  was  so  long  deliberating  what  card  to  put  down, 
that  Dr.  Monsey,  who  was  one  of  the  party,  and  distinguished  for 
blunt  sincerity,  told  her  that  the  table  had  waited  for  her  some  time. 
She  expressed  great  surprise  as  well  as  resentment  at  such  a  rebuke, 
as  she  said  she  was  known  to  be  always  very  quick  at  cards.  "Well," 
said  the  doctor,  "  if  so,  yours,  madam,  is  a  new  species  of  celerity." 
The  rest  of  the  company  could  not  help  laughing  at  a  declaration  so 
contrary  to  her  practice,  which  increased  the  spleen  of  the  lady. 

While  she  was  employed  on  her  "  History  of  England,"  she  visited 
the  British  Museum,  and  desired  to  see  the  letters  which  had  passed 
between  King  James  the  First  and  his  favourite  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, whom  his  majesty  used  to  address  under  the  name  of 
Stennie.  Dr.  Birch,  whose  duty  was  to  take  care  of  the  papers, 
attended  her  for  that  purpose.  The  doctor,  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  contents  of  those  papers,  and  knew  many  of  them  to  be 
very  obscene,  requested  that  she  would  permit  him  to  select  a  cer- 
tain portion  for  her  perusal,  observing  that  many  of  them  were 
wholly  unfit  for  the  inspection  of  any  one  of  her  sex.  "  Phoo ,"  said 
she,  "  an  historian  is  of  no  sex,"  and  then  deliberately  read  through  all. 

She  consulted  the  noted  Dr.  Graham  upon  the  state  of  her  health, 
and  the  doctor,  who  knew  that  she  had  money,  contrived  to  introduce 
his  brother  to  her  as  a  better  adviser  than  himself.  She  soon  forgot 
that  "an  historian  was  of  no  sex,"  married  him  at  a  time  of  life  when  she 
ought  to  have  been  wiser,  and  then  lost  all  her  historical  reputation. 
She,  however,  soon  after  published  a  tract,  which  she  oddly  entitled, 
*6  Loose  thoughts  on  literary  property,"  and  thereby  exposed  herself 
to  the  raillery  of  the  newspaper  wits. 

I  knew  Dr.  Graham  very  well.  He  was  a  sensible  and,  as  far  as 
I  could  judge,  an  extremely  well-informed  man,  both  generally  and 
professionally.  Being  too  fond  of  notoriety,  he  was  considered  a 
quack,  and  having  lost  the  good  opinion  of  his  medical  brethren,  he 
became  careless  of  his  medical  character,  adopted  expedients  for 
support  of  a  licentious  description,  and  died  in  great  distress.  When 
sober,  he  was  a  remarkably  well-bred  man,  with  most  polished  man- 
ners ;  but  when  he  had  confused  his  senses  with  ether,  of  which  he 
carried  a  bottle  which  was  constantly  at  his  nose,  he  used  to  walk  in 
a  morning-dress  through  the  streets,  and  scowl  with  misanthropic 
gloom  upon  those  whom  he  appeared  most  to  esteem  when  his 
faculties  were  clear.   He  seemed  to  consider  me  one  of  his  favourites, 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


but  when  I  have  met  him  in  one  of  his  wandering  moments,  he  has 
frowned  upon  me  with  so  terrific  an  aspect,  as  if  he  considered  me 
his  bitterest  enemy,  that  I  found  it  necessary  to  make  a  hasty  retreat 
in  order  to  avoid  a  mob. 

When  he  lived  in  Pall  Mall,  I  sometimes  called  on  him  in  the 
evening,  and  used  to  find  him  on  a  straw  bed  with  one  of  his  chil- 
dren. His  hair  was  dressed  as  if  he  had  been  going  on  a  visit. 
There  was  always  a  clean  sheet  over  his  straw  bed.  His  conversa- 
tion was  grave  and  intelligent,  and  his  manners  easy  and  polite.  His 
earth-bathing  and  his  other  quackeries  are  too  well  known  to  the 
public  to  require  any  notice  in  this  place.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome 
man,  and  if  he  had  remained  stationary  at  his  first  residence  in  Pall 
Mall,  where  he  was  successful  in  practice  as  a  regular  physician,  he 
would  have  held  a  respectable  rank,  but  his  recourse  to  empirical 
expedients  of  a  licentious  kind  exposed  him  to  disgrace  and  ruin. 
He  possessed  a  fine  collection  of  preparations  representing  diseases 
of  the  eye,  which  I  have  reason  to  think  had  been  formerly  the 
property  of  my  grandfather,  the  Chevalier  Taylor.  Indeed  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  doctor  was  particularly  conversant  with  diseases  of 
the  eye,  though  at  one  period  he  held  himself  forward  as  an  expe- 
rienced oculist.  What  became  of  Mrs.  Macaulay,  or  his  brother,  I 
never  heard. 

I  may  relate  an  odd  incident  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Birch.  He  was 
very  fond  of  angling,  and  devoted  much  time  to  that  amusement. 
In  order  to  deceive  the  fish,  he  had  a  dress  constructed,  which,  when 
he  put  it  on,  made  him  appear  like  an  old  tree.  His  arms  he  con- 
ceived would  appear  like  branches,  and  the  line  like  a  long  spray. 
In  this  sylvan  attire  he  used  to  take  root  by  the  side  of  a  favourite 
stream,  and  imagined  that  his  motions  might  seem  to  the  fish  to  be 
the  effect  of  the  wind.  He  pursued  this  amusement  for  some  years 
in  the  same  habit,  till  he  was  ridiculed  out  of  it  by  his  friends.  His 
biographical  work,  well  known  by  the  name  of  "  Birch's  Lives," 
giving  a  brief  history  of  many  memorable  characters  noticed  in  our 
annals,  displays  great  industry  and  research,  but  no  great  judgment 
or  literary  excellence ;  the  work,  however,  is  rendered  valuable  by 
portraits  engraved  by  Vertue  and  Houbraken.  The  latter  was  the 
better  artist,  and  it  was  said  that  when  original  pictures  could  not  be 
found,  a  description  of  the  person  was  sent  to  Houbraken,  who 
resided  in  Holland,  drew  the  portraits  according  to  the  description, 
and  then  made  the  engraving.  It  is  hardly  possible  that  Dr.  Birch* 
who  was  a  respectable  man,  could  have  practised  such  an  imposition 
upon  the  public,  even  supposing  it  not  likely  to  be  discovered. 

The  great  Dukb  of  Marlborough.  Archdeacon  Coxe,  whose 
historical  works  evince  vast  research,  industry,  and  judgment,  in  his 
memoirs  of  this  illustrious  hero,  describes  him  as  having  retained  his 
mental  powers  to  the  close  of  his  life.  The  fact,  however,  is,  that 
long  before  his  death  he  sank  into  childish  imbecility,  as  I  have 
already  stated.  The  following  lines  of  Dr.  Johnson  would  indeed 
demonstrate  this  fact,  as  he  could  not  be  supposed  to  found  them 


THE  DUKE  OP  MARLBOROUGH  JACK  SPENCER. 


125 


otherwise  than  upon  good  authority,  if  I  had  not  stronger  proof  to 
offer  on  the  subject. 

In  life's  last  scenes  what  prodigies  surprise, 

Tears  of  the  brave,  and  follies  of  the  wise  : 

From  Marlborough's  eyes  the  streams  of  dotage  flow. 

And  Swift  expires  a  driveler  and  a  show. 

Before  I  proceed  with  my  records,  I  may  not  improperly  cite  some 
lines  of  a  similar  nature  from  Churchill,  and  leave  the  reader  to  com- 
pare and  decide  upon  their  respective  merits. 

What  bitter  pangs  must  humbled  genius  feel, 
In  their  last  hours  to  view  a  Swift  and  Steele, 

To  drivel  out  whole  years  of  idiot  breath, 

And  sit  the  monuments  of  living  death ! 

On  one  occasion,  when  the  great  Lord  Chesterfield  was  present, 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  was  urging  the  duke  to  take  some 
medicine,  contrary  to  his  inclination.  At  length  she  said,  vehe- 
mently, "  Do,  my  lord,  take  it,  I'll  be  hanged  if  it  will  not  do  you 
good."  Lord  Chesterfield  joined  in  her  grace's  intreaty,  and  slyly 
said,  "  Take  it,  my  lord,  it  will  certainly  do  you  good  one  way  or 
others 

A  relation  of  her  grace,  of  an  eccentric  character,  and  who  was 
commonly  called  Jack  Spencer,  used  always  to  pay  his  respects  to* 
her  on  her  birth-day.  On  one  occasion  he  went  in  a  chairman's 
coat,  which  he  threw  off  in  her  presence,  and  appeared  naked.  Her 
grace  remonstrated  with  him  on  such  a  shameless  appearance- 
"  Shameless  !"  said  he,  "  WhyvE  am  in  my  birth-day  suit." 

Another  time,  for  a  wager,  he  drove  a  hackney-coach  through  the 
streets  quite  naked.  He  was  very  properly  taken  before  a  magis- 
trate, who  having  heard  who  he  was,  and  with  what  family  he  was 
connected,  mildly  expostulated  with  him  on  the  indecency  of  his 
appearance.  "  Indecency  !  how  do  you  mean  V  said  Spencer.  "  In 
being  naked,"  the  magistrate  replied.  "  Naked !  why  I  was  born 
so,"  rejoined  Spencer,  with  an  affected  simplicity,  as  a  man  might  be 
supposed  to  evince  who  had  some  natural  deformity. 

One  of  his  whimsical  freaks  was  to  take  a  hackney-coach  with 
three  friends  in  a  dark  evening,  and  order  the  man  to  set  them  down 
in  a  gloomy  part  of  the  Strand  at  the  side  of  the  New  Church.  He 
had  previously  opened  the  door  opposite  to  that  where  the  coachman 
waited,  and  as  Spencer  and  his  friends  quitted  the  coach  on  one  side,, 
they  went  round  and  entered  at  the  other.  The  coachman  was  at 
first  surprised  that  more  issued  from  the  carriage  than  he  had  taken 
in.  As  they  continued  to  go  round  and  come  out,  he  became  dread- 
fully alarmed,  and  at  length  his  terror  was  so  great  that  he  ran  from 
the  coach,  and  rushed  into  the  first  public-house,  telling  the  people 
there  he  must  have  taken  in  a  legion  of  devils,  for,  he  added  with 
ever}7  sign  of  horror,  that  he  had  only  taken  four  in,  but  had  counted 
eighteen  out,  and  that  more  were  coming  when  he  left  his  coach. 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


It  is  said  that  he  once  contrived  to  collect  a  party  of  hunch-backed 
men  to  dine  with  him,  some  of  whom  indignantly  quitted  the  table. 

Another  whimsical  party  which  he  assembled  at  his  house  con- 
sisted merely  of  a  number  of  persons  all  of  whom  stuttered  ;  but 
this  meeting  at  first  threatened  serious  consequences,  for  each  sup- 
posed he  was  mocked  by  the  other,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  their  host  restored  peace,  by  acknowledging  the  ludicrous 
purpose  of  his  invitation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Mr.  James  Boswell.  Soon  after  Mr.  Burke  was  appointed 
army-paymaster,  I  dined  at  the  governor's  table,  on  the  anniversary 
of  his  majesty's  birth-day ;  and  in  the  course  of  conversation,  Mr. 
Burke  said,  in  answer  to  something  that  fell  from  Boswell,  "  I  can 
account  for  Boswelfs  jacobitism,  which,  with  all  his  present  loyalty, 
he  never  will  get  rid  of;  when  he  was  a  child  he  was  taken  to  see 
Prince  Charles  at  Edinburgh.  The  sight  of  a  fine  young  man  coming 
upon  a  great  occasion  splendidly  attired,  with  drums,  trumpets,  &c, 
surrounded  by  heroic  chieftains,  and  all  the  'pride,  pomp,  and  circum- 
stance' attending  the  scene,  made  an  impression  on  his  imagination 
that  never  can  be  effaced."  Boswell  admitted  that  this  impression 
on  his  mind  still  remained  in  vivid  strength,  notwithstanding  all 
his  attachment  to  the  House  of  Hanover.  Boswell  then  told  the 
story  of  what  passed  that  morning  between  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr. 
Windham. 

Mr.  Windham  had  been  appointed  secretary  to  the  Irish  govern- 
ment, and  called  upon  Dr.  Johnson,  expressing  his  fears  that  his  habits 
had  been  so  different  from  those  of  a  public  functionary,  that  he 
feared  he  was  not  qualified  for  the  situation.  "  Don't  be  afraid,  sir,'* 
said  Johnson,  "  the  subordinates  will  do  all  the  business,  and  as  for 
the  rest,  take  my  word  for  it  you  will  make  a  very  pretty  rascal." 
The  company,  which  was  very  numerous,  laughed  heartily  at  this 
anecdote,  and  Mr.  Burke  loudly  said,  "That  is  so  like  Johnson." 
Boswell  has  said  to  me  more  than  once,  "  I  should  not  die  happy  if  I 
were  not  to  see  Grand  Cairo,"  but  if  he  stated  the  grounds  of  his 
curiosity  I  have  forgotten  them.  He  was  however  of  a  roving  turn, 
and  if  he  had  been  gratified  with  a  sight  of  that  place,  he  would  have 
been  restless  till  he  had  beheld  some  other. 

The  last,  or  nearly  the  last  time  I  saw  Boswell,  I  met  him  in  Hen- 
rietta-street, Covent  Garden.  I  told  him  that  I  was  disengaged,  and 
was  going  to  dine  at  a  chop-house,  and  asked  him  if  we  should  take 
a  chop  and  a  bottle  together.  He  said  no,  he  was  going  to  dine  in 
the  city,  and  added,  "I  must  keep  in  with  those  men."  His  reason 
was,  perhaps,  that  he  might  have  a  chance  of  being  one  of  the  city 


JAMES  BOSWELL,  AND  JAMES  BOSWELL,  JR. 


127 


counsel,  or  of  attaining  some  higher  city  honour,  not  without  the 
attendant  advantage  of  the  good  fare  connected  with  such  offices. 
The  only  time  I  ever  offended  him  was,  when  at  one  of  the  dinners 
given  by  the  Royal  Academy  on  the  birth-day  of  the  late  Queen 
Charlotte,  I  proposed,  in  a  convivial  moment,  as  he  liked  to  see 
original  characters,  to  introduce  Dr.  Wolcot,  olim  Peter  Pindar,  to  him. 
He  answered  vehemently  and  indignantly,  that  he  never  would  know 
that  man,  for  he  had  abused  the  king ;  though  it  is  very  probable 
his  loyalty  on  this  occasion  was  not  unmixed  with  the  resentment 
which  he  felt  at  the  doctor's  poetical  epistle  to  James  Boswell. 
Wolcot  would  have  had  no  objection  to  take  him  by  the  hand,  and  it 
was  a  settled  point  with  him  never  in  the  slightest  degree  to  attack 
those  whom  he  had  before  satirized,  after  he  became  at  all  acquainted 
with  them.  On  the  contrary,  when  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
ingenious  Mrs.  Cosway,  whom  he  had  ridiculed  in  his  "  Odes  to 
Painters,"  he  changed  the  tone  of  his  lyre,  and  wrote  some  elegant 
verses  in  praise  of  her  talents  and  personal  worth. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  Mr.  Boswell  was  universally  well  received. 
He  was  full  of  anecdote,  well  acquainted  with  the  most  distinguished 
characters,  good-humoured,  and  ready  at  repartee.  There  was  a  kind 
of  jovial  bluntness  in  his  manner,  which  threw  off  ail  restraint  even 
with  strangers,  and  immediately  kindled  a  social  familiarity.  His 
brother,  Sir  Alexander  Boswell,  was  of  a  more  conciliating  dispo- 
sition. I  was  a  little  acquainted  with  him,  and  he,  knowing  my 
intimacy  wTith  Dr.  Wolcot,  requested  I  would  make  them  acquainted. 
I  expressed  some  surprise,  as  he  had  attacked  his  brother — "  Pooh," 
said  he,  "  that  was  fun,  and  not  malice.  He  is  a  man  of  original 
genius,  and  I  should  like  to  know  him."  The  introduction  never  took 
place,  for  the  worthy  baronet,  who  had  himself  a  turn  for  satire,  by 
too  free  an  exertion  of  his  pen,  was  involved  in  a  quarrel,  and  un- 
fortunately lost  his  life  in  a  duel. 

Mk.  James  Boswell,  junior.  This  gentleman  was  the  son  of  the 
biographer  of  Dr.  Johnson.  I  had  the  pleasure  to  be  more  intimate 
with  him  than  I  was  with  his  father.  As  far  as  I  can  presume  to 
judge,  he  had  a  sounder  intellect  than  his  father,  though  it  is  hardly  to 
be  supposed,  that  had  the  same  opportunities  occurred  to  him,  he  could 
have  produced  a  work  equal  in  interest  and  merit  to  the  life  of  the 
great  moralist.  He  was  more  cautious  in  conversation,  but  not  less 
disposed  to  partake  of  social  enjoyment.  Indeed  he  inherited  the 
father's  love  of  convivial  pleasure.  He  was  a  barrister,  and  generally 
reputed  to  be  a  man  of  learning.  His  merit  entitled  him  to  all  the 
friends  of  his  father,  particularly  Mr.  Malone,  Mr.  Windham,  General 
Paoli,  and  the  present  Marquis  of  Lansdown.  He  devoted  a  great 
part  of  the  morning  to  reading,  but  from  his  habits,  and  the  general 
tenor  of  his  conversation,  I  rather  think  more  for  literary  gratifica- 
tion than  for  the  study  of  hisprofession.  His  knowledge  of  the  float- 
ing literature  of  the  day,  particularly  any  interesting  poetry  or  striking 
novels,  was  evident ;  and  referring  to  any  works  from  his  recommen- 


128 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


dation,  I  had  always  reason  to  respect  his  taste  and  to  rely  upon  his 
judgment. 

When  he  had  ended  his  morning  studies,  or  rather  amusements,  he 
used  to  sally  forth,  and  pay  a  round  of  visits  to  his  friends,  as  he  used 
freely  to  say,  in  hopes  among  them  "  to  spring  a  dinner,"  for  he 
"  strolled  a  bachelor's  merry  life,"  as  the  song  has  it.  He  lived  very 
retired  in  the  morning  at  his  chambers  in  the  Temple,  and  very  few, 
if  any,  of  his  friends  were  admitted  when  they  called.  It  is  very 
probable  that  he  never  dined  in  his  chambers  during  the  whole  year,* 
as  he  was  fond  of  company,  and  always  a  welcome  guest  at  any 
friend's  table.  Sometimes  in  convivial  parties  the  conversation  has, 
perhaps,  been  of  too  free  a  tendency,  and  I  have  heard  it  indulged  with 
some  latitude  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Boswell,  junior ;  but  I  must  do 
him  the  justice  to  say,  that  he  always  discouraged  every  thing  of  a 
licentious  description,  and  never  uttered  any  thing  of  the  kind  in  my 
presence,  nor  do  I  believe  anywhere  else. 

Not  long  before  his  death,  wrhich  I  doubt  not  was  sincerely  regretted 
by  all  who  knew  him,  he  was  appointed  one  of  the  commissioners  of 
bankrupts.  I  met  him  soon  after,  and  in  the  freedom  of  friendship, 
asked  him  if  he  found  it  a  lucrative  post.  His  answer  was,  "  No,  not 
yet,  but  we  look  to  the  hops."  I  naturally  inferred  that  he  expected 
failures  from  hop  speculations,  though  I  imagine  he  said  so  more  from 
humour  than  sincerity,  as  I  believe  he  was  too  liberal  to  wish  to  de- 
rive advantage  from  misfortune. 

The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  at  the  hospitable  table  of  the  late  Mr, 
John  Kemble,  who  was  equally  adverse  to  all  licentious  discourse, 
"whether  concerning  morals  or  religion.  After  the  ladies  were  with- 
drawn, some  topic  arose  on  which  we  all  differed.  I  forget  the  topic, 
but  conclude  that  it  was  of  the  dramatic  kind,  as  that  was  what  chiefly 
engrossed  the  attention  of  Mr.  Kemble.  Mr.  Kemble,  I  remember, 
was  tvery  fluent,  and,  as  I  thought  at  the  time,  very  shrewd  and  in- 
telligent. Mr.  Boswell  was*  naturally  inclined  to  a  sort  of  hesitation, 
•which  made  him  repeat  his  words,  and  the  influence  of  wine  rendered 
him  more  so  than  usual,  insomuch  that  he  retired  from  the  argument, 
and  left  the  field  to  Kemble,  who  had  it  all  to  himself,  as  I  was  never 
disposed  to  talk,  but  to  listen,  on  a  subject  which  he  had  theoretically 
studied,  and  concerning  an  art  in  which  he  so  practically  excelled. 
How  Mr.  Boswell  reached  home  that  night  I  could  not  conceive, 
for  he  was  too  proud  to  suffer  me  to  accompany  him. 

Here  I  cannot  help  adverting  to  the  progress  of  time  and  events. 
The  first  time  I  ever  saw  Mr.  James  Boswell,  junior,  was  in  the  first 
gallery  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  at  the  benefit  of  the  widow  and 
family  of  Dr.  Glover.  He  wras  then  quite  a  boy,  and  stood  on  the 
bench  wrhile  his  father  held  him  round  the  waist.  The  play  was 
u  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  and  the  farce  "  Love  a-la-mode."  1  am 
sorry  to  say  that  the  theatre  was  but  thinly  attended,  as  is  too  often 
the  case  on  charitable  occasions.  My  late  friend,  Jack  Johnstone,  sung 
a  song  in  character,  each  verse  ending  with  the  word  "  Whack" 
"which  he  gave  with  great  power  of  lungs.    Little  Boswell  was  so  de- 


i 


DR.  GLOVER. 


129 


Sighted  with  this  song,  that  his  father  roared  for  a  repetition  with  a 
stentorian  voice,  to  please  the  child,  and  Johnstone  readily  sang  it 
again.  Little  could  I  think  that,  in  the  progress  of  time,  this  boy 
would  become  a  man  whose  talents  and  attainments  I  should  admire, 
whose  worth  I  should  respect,  and  to  whom  I  should  look  for  pleasure 
and  improvement. 

Dr.  Glover,  whom  I  have  just  mentioned,  was  a  native  of  Ireland, 
and  by  profession  a  surgeon.  He  ventured  upon  the  stage  for  a  while, 
but  resumed  his  practice  as  a  surgeon.  A  peculiar  incident  in  his  life 
had  rendered  him  conspicuous.  A  man  was  hanged  in  Dublin  (I 
believe),  and  the  body,  after  execution,  being  removed  to  Dr.  Glover's 
house,  was  restored  by  him  to  life,  and  as  the  man's  crime  had  not 
been  of  a  very  atrocious  nature,  and  he  had  suffered  the  sentence  of 
the  law,  though  the  circumstance  had  excited  much  notice,  it  was 
passed  over  by  the  Irish  government.  Dr.  Glover,  however,  was  ill- 
rewarded  by  the  culprit  for  his  kindness  and  skill ;  for,  whenever  the 
man  wanted  money,  he  always  applied  to  the  doctor,  alleging  that  as 
he  had  thought  proper  to  restore  him  to  life,  he  was  bound  to  maintain 
him.  Sometimes  he  called  his  preserver  his  father,  for  having  brought 
him  to  life,  and  annoyed  him  in  this  manner  for  a  long  time.  At  length 
the  doctor  came  to  London,  intending  to  settle  in  his  profession.  His 
wit,  humour,  and  social  qualities  procured  him  so  many  connexions, 
that  he  was  every  day  engaged  with  some  convivial  party,  but  derived 
little  from  his  business.  My  father,  who  was  a  convivial  man  himself, 
became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Glover,  and  introduced  me  to  him.  He 
was  a  tall,  lusty,  fine-looking  man,  and  his  open  manly  countenance 
gave  effect  to  his  jocularity. 

There  was  a  tavern  in  Fleet-street,  called  the  Globe,  which  was  the 
chief  scene  of  his  nocturnal  festivity.  Among  the  members  of  the 
club  whom  I  knew  were  Mr.  William  Woodfail,  Mr.  Ross  the  actor, 
Mr.  Cooke  the  barrister  and  friend  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Mr.  Hugh  Kelly 
the  author,  and  Mr.  Akerman  the  keeper  of  Newgate,  a  very  worthy 
and  humane  character.  There  were  several  other  members,  but  as  I 
passed  only  one  evening  with  them,  I  do  not  know  their  names.  I 
felt  myself  too  young  to  offer  myself  as  a  member. 

As  Dr.  Glover  was  the  life  of  the  company,  it  was  delicately  pro- 
posed, as  his  finances  were  by  no  means  equal  to  those  of  the  rest  of 
the  members  individually,  that  he  should  be  considered  as  common 
property,  and  never  be  called  upon  in  the  general  reckonings.  During 
this  necessary,  but  painful  adjustment,  the  doctor  always  contrived 
to  fall  into  a  nap  till  it  was  over.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect,  that  a 
man  of  worth  and  talents  should  have  been  obliged  to  resort  to  such 
an  expedient  to  conceal  his  feelings.  At  length  Mr.  Thorpe,  the  land- 
lord, pitying  the  situation  of  poor  Glover,  and  knowing  that  he  was 
the  magnet  of  the  club,  proposed  to  him  that  he  should  not  be  sub- 
ject to  this  trespass  upon  his  feelings,  but  that  his  share  of  the  night's 
expenses  should  be  placed  to  account,  giving  the  doctor  delicately  to 
understand  that  he  should  never  be  called  upon.  As  this  plan  was 
concealed  from  the  company,  the  doctor  was  able  to  assume  an  inde- 


130 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


pendent  air,  and  by  the  sallies  of  his  humour  he  afforded  increased 

pleasure  to  the  members. 

He  survived  his  friend  Hugh  Kelly,  and,  according  to  report,  wrote 
the  biographical  sketch  which  is  prefixed  to  the  quarto  volume  of  that 
writer's  dramatic  works,  published  for  the  benefit  of  his  widow.  After 
a  lapse  of  more  than  thirty  years,  I  was  surprised  with  a  visit  from 
this  lady,  who  knew  that  Mr.  Kelly  had  been  intimate  with  my  father, 
and  had  been  kind  to  me  in  permitting  me  to  call  on  him,  morning  and 
evening,  in  my  youth,  and  favouring  me  with  the  use  of  his  library. 
Mrs.  Kelly  had  been  married  again  to  a  Colonel  Davis,  and  had  lost 
her  second  husband.  She  was  near  eighty  years  of  age  when  she 
resumed  her  acquaintance  with  me.  She  retained  all  the  vivacity  of 
her  early  days,  and  related  many  anecdotes  of  Dr.  Johnson,  Dr.  Gold- 
smith, Garrick,  and  many  other  of  her  first  husband's  literary  friends. 
She  died  in  the  year  1826,  while  I  was  out  of  town,  or  I  should  prob- 
ably have  been  invited  to  follow  her  remains  to  the  grave. 

The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Dr.  Glover  was  in  the 
lobby  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  surrounded  by  a  knot  of  juvenile 
critics,  who  were  conversing  on  the  character  of  Shakspeare's 
"  Richard  the  Third/'  "  For  my  part,"  said  the  doctor,  "  if  I  were  to 
perform  the  character,  as  Richard  is  possessed  of  wit  and  humour,  I 
should  represent  him,  like  Falstaff,  with  an  air  of  jovial  freedom  and 
spirit,"  and  he  then  recited  a  passage  in  the  manner  he  had  suggested. 
The  juvenile  critics  all  expressed  their  surprise,  but  the  doctor  sup- 
ported his  declared  opinion  by  so  many  apt  quotations,  so  much 
humour  and  specious  reasoning,  that  if  they  were  not  convinced,  they 
were,  at  least,  highly  entertained  with  his  ingenuity. 

Dr.  Glover  soon  after  died,  and  in  such  indifferent  circumstances, 
that,  as  I  have  said,  his  friends  supported  a  benefit  for  his  widow  and 
children,  and  I  never  after  heard  of  them.  Indeed  I  never  knew  the 
doctor  in  his  domestic  state,  never  saw  any  of  his  family,  or  knew 
where  he  lived. 

Mr.  Akerman,  whom  I  have  mentioned  as  one  of  the  club  at  the 
Globe,  was  a  plain,  sensible  man,  who  had  seen  the  world,  and  of  a  re- 
markably kind  and  generous  disposition,  considering  his  melancholy 
occupation,  but  in  point  of  literary  taste  was  by  no  means  qualified 
for  the  witty  and  intelligent  society  who  met  at  that  tavern.  I  re- 
member, after  having  avowed  my  respect  to  Mr.  Akerman  for  his 
moral  qualities,  once  expressing  my  surprise  to  my  friend  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Woodfall,  that  a  man  so  little  capable  of  contributing  to  the  wit 
and  hilarity  of  the  place  should  be  a  member.  His  whimsical  and 
somewhat  ludicrous  answer  was,  "  Why,  sir,  Dick  Akerman  provides 
at  least  good  coinciding  conversation"  The  jovial  power  of  Glover 
bore  down  all  before  it ;  but  next  to  him  in  attractive  discourse  must 
have  been  Ross,  whose  talk,  to  use  a  favourite  word  with  Dr.  Johnson, 
more  strongly  resembled  the  arch,  shrewd  dialogue  of  Congreve'g 
gentleman,  than  I  have  ever  observed  in  any  other  person,  except  Joe 
Richardson,  though  he  unfortunately  had  a  Northumberland  burr, 


MB.  STEPHEN  KEMBLE. 


13^1 


which  prevented  what  he  said  from  being  at  first  distinctly  under- 
stood. 

It  is  mentioned  to  the  honour  of  Ross,  that  when  "  The  Rosciad* 
was  first  published,  and  he  was  told  it  was  a  severe  attack  upon  the 
whole  community  of  actors,  himself  among  the  number,  he  imme- 
diately said,  in  the  words  of  Cato : — 

"  I  should  have  blush'd  if  Cato's  house  had  stood 
Secure,  and  flourish'd  in  a  civil  war." 

Mr.  Stephen  Kemble  was  an  actor  of  considerable  merit,  and  only 
precluded  from  representing  the  first  heroic  characters  by  his  extra- 
ordinary bulk.  He  was  a  remarkably  handsome  man.  He  had  been 
apprenticed  to  a  surgeon  in  some  provincial  town,  but  his  devotion  to 
the  stage  induced  him  to  resign  his  profession.  He  had  a  strong 
sense  of  humour  in  private  life,  and  related  anecdotes,  particularly  of 
the  theatrical  kind,  with  admirable  effect.  He  also  possessed  poetical 
talents,  which  appear  to  advantage  in  a  large  octavo  volume  published 
by  subscription.  His  skill  in  recitation  was  so  well  known,  that  he 
was  generally  requested  in  company  to  indulge  them  with  some  pas- 
sage, which  he  chiefly  repeated  from  Shakspeare.  He  was  so  fat 
that  he  required  no  stuffing  to  appear  in  Falstaff,  which  character  he 
supported  with  a  flowing  manly  humour,  and,  I  may  venture  to  say, 
with  a  critical  knowledge  of  his  author.  All  characters  of  an  open, 
blunt  nature,  and  requiring  a  vehement  expression  of  justice  and  in- 
tegrity, particularly  those  exemplifying  an  honest  indignation  against 
vice,  he  delivered  in  so  forcible  a  manner  as  to  show  obviously  that 
he  was  developing  his  own  feelings  and  character.  This  manner  was 
very  successfully  displayed  in  his  representation  of  the  Governor,  in 
the  opera  of  il  Inkle  and  Yarico." 

He  had  experienced  all  the  vicissitudes  of  a  theatrical  life  in  pro- 
vincial theatres,  if  they  may  be  so  styled,  but  by  prudence,  good 
conduct,  and  the  general  respect  in  which  his  character  and  talents 
were  held,  he  surmounted  all  difficulties,  and  was  able  to  leave  a 
competency  to  his  widow.  Indeed,  his  wife  had  essentially  con- 
tributed to  the  improvement  of  his  fortune.  She  had  acquired  a 
well-merited  reputation  for  her  talents  as  an  actress  at  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  under  her  maiden  name  of  Miss  Satchell. 

Mr.  Stephen  Kemble  made  his  first  appearance  at  the  same  thea- 
tre, in  the  character  of  Othello.  Though  stout  in  person,  he  was  not 
then  of  a  size  that  precluded  him  from  performing  any  of  the  higher 
order  of  characters.  He  was  soon  attracted  by  the  person  and 
talents  of  Miss  Satchell,  and  they  were  married.  Their  conjugal 
state  was  marked  by  mutual  attachment,  as  I  had  abundant  oppor- 
tunities of  knowing,  for  I  married  one  of  her  sisters,  who  was  ad- 
mired by  all  who  knew  her  for  her  personal  beauty  and  the  excellent 
qualities  of  her  mind.  All  who  had  been  acquainted  with  her  deeply 
sympathized  with  me  when  I  had  the  misery  of  losing  her,  about 
cin©  months  after  our  union*    Twelve  years  elapsed  before  I  again 


132 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


married,  and  I  have  reason  to  declare  that  I  have  not  been  less  fori 
tunate  in  my  second  choice,  after  a  union  of  nearly  thirty  years. 

Mr.  Stephen  Kemble  was  so  little  scrupulous  in  relating  the  un- 
toward events  of  his  theatrical  life,  that  I  may  advert  to  them  here, 
as  they  may  operate  as  a  warning  to  young  candidates  for  theatrical 
fame,  and  prevent  them  from  rashly  quitting  a  regular  employment 
which  might  lead  them  to  independence,  one  of  the  first  of  earthly 
blessings.  He  said  that  before  his  marriage,  when  he  was  in  one  of 
the  towns  of  Yorkshire,  where  a  large  barn  was  formed  into  a  sort 
of  theatre,  the  performances  were  so  little  attractive  that  he  and  the 
rest  of  the  Thespian  party  were  reduced  to  the  greatest  extremities, 
unable  not  only  to  defray  the  expense  of  their  lodgings,  but  even  to 
provide  food  for  the  passing  day.  He  was  persecuted  by  his  land- 
lady, whose  wretched  garret  he  occupied,  with  the  daily  question, 
4i  Why  don't  you  pay  your  charges  V  and  in  order  to  disguise  the 
necessity  of  abstinence,  he  remained  two  days  in  bed  under  pretence 
of  indisposition.  On  the  third  day  he  ventured  to  sally  forth,  and  at 
the  distance  of  three  miles  luckily  discovered  a  turnip-field,  which  he 
■entered,  and  there  made  a  cold  but  most  acceptable  repast.  The 
next  day  as  he  was  proceeding  to  the  same  hospitable  banquet,  the 
Jate  Mr.  Davenport,  husband  of  the  present  popular  actress  of 
Covent  Garden  Theatre,  who  was  one  of  this  wandering  tribe  of 
Thespians,  met  Mr.  Kemble,  declared  he  was  nearly  famished,  and 
-earnestly  entreated  for  some  assistance.  Mr.  Kemble,  whom  no  dis- 
tress could  deprive  of  fortitude  and  good-humour,  told  Mr.  Daven- 
port that  it  was  a  lucky  meeting,  for  he  was  going  to  dine  with  a 
friend,  and  could  take  the  liberty  of  bringing  a  friend  with  him.  Here 
was  another  difficulty  to  poor  Davenport,  who  said  his  shoes  were 
so  cracked  that  he  was  ashamed  of  going  into  company,  proposing 
that  he  should  cover  them  in  part  with  mud,  in  order,  if  possible,  to 
conceal  the  fissures.  Mr.  Kemble  assured  him  that  the  friend  to 
whom  they  were  going  was  wholly  devoid  of  ceremony,  and  would 
care  nothing  whether  he  was  well  or  ill  shod.  They  then  proceeded 
on  their  journey,  but  Davenport,  nearly  exhausted  by  the  condition 
of  his  stomach,  made  heavy  complaints  of  the  length  of  the  way. 
Kemble  endeavoured  to  raise  his  spirits,  assuring  him  that  he  would 
find  an  ample  feast  and  no  unwelcome  greeting.  At  length  they 
reached  the  vegetable  pantry,  and  Kemble  congratulated  him  on 
having  arrived  at  the  hospitable  mansion  of  his  friend.  Davenport 
looked  around  with  anxiety  for  a  house,  and  then  cast  a  look  of 
dejection  and  reproach  at  Kemble  for  having  deceived  him  at  so 
distressing  a  crisis.  Kemble  pointed  to  the  turnip-field,  and  said, "  This 
is  my  only  friend ;  it  afforded  me  a  dinner  yesterday,  and  I  suppose  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  trespass  on  the  same  kindness  till  the  end  of  the 
week."  Davenport,  who  was  a  sensible  and  respectable  man,  though 
an  inferior  actor,  assumed  better  spirits,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "Well, 
I  confess,  though  I  do  not  find  the  fare  I  expected,  you  have  brought 
me  to  an  ample  table  and  no  spare  diet." 

Mr.  Davenport  was  some  years  after  engaged  with  his  wife  at 


STEPHEN  KEMBLE  REV.  THOMAS  MAURICE* 


133 


Covent  Garden  Theatre,  and  always  supported  the  characters  allotted 
to  him  with  good  sense  and  propriety.  After  his  former  sufferings, 
it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did  not  live  to  profit  by  the  popularity  of 
his  wife,  as  he  always  acted  the  part  of  a  good  husband  and  father. 

Mr.  Kemble  used  to  relate  an  incident  of  a  more  whimsical  de- 
scription. He  said  that  while  he  was  manager  of  a  theatre  at  Ports- 
mouth, which  was  only  opened  twice  or  thrice  in  the  week,  a  sailor 
applied  to  him  on  one  of  the  nights  when  there  was  no  performance, 
and  entreated  him  to  open  the  theatre,  but  was  informed  that,  as  the 
town  had  not  been  apprized  on  the  occasion,  the  manager  could  not 
risk  the  expense.  "  What  will  it  cost  to  open  the  house  to-night,  for 
to-morrow  I  leave  the  country,  and  God  knows  if  I  shall  ever  see  a 
play  again,"  said  the  sailor.  Mr.  Kemble  told  him  that  it  would  be 
five  guineas.  "  Well,"  said  the  careless  tar,  "  I  will  give  it  upon  this 
condition,  that  you  will  let  nobody  into  the  house  but  myself  and  the 
actors."  He  was  then  asked  what  play  he  would  choose.  He  fixed 
upon  "  Richard  the  Third."  The  house  was  immediately  lighted,  the 
rest  of  the  performers  attended,  and  the  tar  took  his  station  in  the 
front  row  of  the  pit ;  Mr.  Kemble  performed  the  part  of  Richard, 
the  play  happening  to  be  what  is  styled  one  of  the  stock-pieces  of  the 
company.  The  play  was  performed  throughout ;  the  sailor  was  very 
attentive,  sometimes  laughing  and  applauding,  but  frequently  on  the 
look-out  lest  some  other  auditor  might  intrude  upon  his  enjoyment. 
He  retired  perfectly  satisfied,  and  cordially  thanked  the  manager  for 
his  ready  compliance.  It  may  seem  strange  that  a  sailor,  who  in 
general  is  reputed  to  be  a  generous  character,  should  require  so  sel- 
fish an  indulgence ;  but  it  hardly  need  be  observed,  that  whims  and 
oddities  are  to  be  found  in  all  classes  of  so  changeable  a  being  as  man. 

Here  I  shall  take  leave  of  my  old  friend  Stephen  Kemble,  who 
was  as  manly  a  character  as  I  ever  knew,  and  whose  memory  I 
sincerely  respect. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Rev.  Thomas  Maurice.  This  gentleman  united  the  characters 
of  the  profound  scholar  and  the  animated  poet.  He  was  educated 
under  Dr.  Parr,  and  always  entertained  the  highest  respect  for  his 
master.  Mr.  Maurice  was  an  historian  as  well  as  a  poet,  and  his 
6i  Indian  Antiquities"  is  a  work  of  great  research,  admirable  illustra- 
tion, and  valuable  intelligence.  He  published  a  volume  of  poems, 
and  many  occasional  productions  of  the  same  kind.  His  last  work, 
in  three  parts,  was  styled  "  Memoirs  of  an  Author/'  in  which  he 
details  his  own  literary  life  and  connexions.  He  was  one  of  the 
officers  of  the  British  Museum,  where  I  first  met  him  at  the  apart- 
ments of  Mr.  Penneck.    I  have  also  met  him  at  the  table  of  James 

G 


134 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Brogden,  Esq.,  M.P. ;  at  the  table  of  my  late  friend  Dr.  George 
Pearson,  M  D. ;  and  at  that  of  the  late  Dr.  Kitchener. 

The  conversation  of  Mr.  Maurice  was  lively,  acute,  and  fertile. 
He  often  quoted  from  classical  authors,  Roman  and  Greek,  and  very 
often  from  Shakspeare.  His  quotations  were  always  apt,  and  some- 
times applied  with  great  humour.  No  man  enjoyed  or  laughed  more 
heartily  at  the  jokes  of  others.  I  know  nothing  of  his  private  his- 
tory, except  that  he  had  lost  an  excellent  wife,  and  his  affliction 
on  that  loss  had  induced  him  to  resort  to  the  consolation  of  the 
bottle,  to  which  in  his  latter  days  he  became  too  much  attached.  He 
favoured  me  with  his  friendship,  and  I  had  an  opportunity  of  showing 
my  respect  for  his  talents  in  occasional  reviews  of  some  of  his 
literary  productions. 

The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  was  when  I  dined 
with  him  at  the  late  Dr.  Kitchener's,  and  saw  him  safe  at  night  to  the 
British  Museum.  He  had  indulged  himself  rather  too  much  with 
the  glass  after  dinner,  and  being  very  talkative,  he  became  an  object 
of  ridicule  to  some  other  guests  at  the  table,  who  had  no  pretensions 
to  compete  with  him  in  intellectual  powers,  attainments,  or  humour. 
I  rose  in  his  defence,  but  he  was  roused  by  the  attack,  stopped  me, 
and  vindicated  himself  with  so  much  pleasant  raillery,  and  retorted 
upon  them  with  so  much  satirical  playfulness,  that  he  made  them 
ashamed  of  themselves,  and  converted  disrespect  into  esteem  and 
admiration. 

I  shall  close  this  account  of  a  gentleman  whom  1  sincerely  re- 
spected for  his  learning,  his  talents,  his  companionable  qualities,  and 
his  friendly  disposition,  with  a  copy  of  the  last  letter  which  I  received 
from  him  on  the  publication  of  his  Memoirs,  as  I  am  proud  of  his 
friendship. 

to  john  taylor,  esq. 

My  dear  Sir, 

My  late  severe  illness  must  be  my  excuse  for  not  sending  the 
accompanying  before.  I  print  only  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  am 
compelled  to  restrict  myself  in  presentations ;  but  my  good  friend 
Taylor,  so  old  and  kind  a  patron  of  my  works,  both  in  prose  and 
poetry,  has  a  decided  claim  to  every  production  of  his  faithful  and 
obliged  Thomas  Maurice. 

I   British  Museum, 
14th  April,  1821. 

Dr.  Parr.  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  gentleman, 
and  only  once  saw  him,  but  having  mentioned  him  in  connexion  with 
Mr.  Maurice,  I  will  relate  one  anecdote  of  him  upon  indisputable 
authority,  and  which  has  not,  I  believe,  been  recorded  in  any  of  the 
numerous  memoirs  which  appeared  after  his  death.  During  the 
trial,  or  rather  the  persecution  of  Mr.  Hastings,  Burke,  Fox,  and 
Sheridan  were  in  company  with  Parr,  who  thought  proper  to  give 
his  opinion  of  the  respective  speeches  of  Fox  and  Sheridan  on  that 


DR.  PARR— DR.  JOHNSON. 


135 


memorable  event.  The  doctor  was  diffusive  in  his  comments  on 
the  last  two,  mixing  censure  with  panegyric,  but  said  nothing  on 
Burke's  speech.  Burke  paced  the  room  some  time  in  evident  ex- 
pectation ;  the  doctor  however  remained  silent.  At  length  Burke, 
who  could  restrain  his  impatience  no  longer,  said,  "  You  have  made 
an  able  comment  on  the  speeches  of  my  two  friends  with  acute, 
judicious,  and  eloquent  impartiality,  but  as  you  say  nothing  upon  my 
speech  on  the  subject,  I  conclude  you  are  too  delicate  to  greet  me 
with  mere  praise,  and  that  you  could  not  discover  any  faults  in  it." 
"  Not  so,  Edmund,"  replied  the  doctor,  "your  speech  was  oppressed 
by  epithet,  dislocated  by  parentheses,  and  debilitated  by  amplifi- 
cation." 

The  following  story  is  told  of  Dr.  Parr,  but  I  do  not  pretend  to 
vouch  for  its  authenticity.  It  seems  he  did  not  live  happily  with  his 
first  wife,  and  had  a  cat  that  was  a  greater  favourite.  When  he  re- 
turned home  one  day,  and  was  going  into  his  library,  the  feelings  of  a 
previous  domestic  feud  not  having  subsided  on  either  part,  on  opening 
the  room  door  something  bobbed  forcibly  on  his  face.  Upon  exami- 
nation he  found  that  his  favourite  cat  had  been  hanged,  and  placed 
in  that  situation  on  purpose  to  annoy  him.  Upon  discovering  this, 
he  suddenly  hastened  to  a  portrait  of  his  wife  and  cut  the  throat,  ex- 
claiming with  vehemence,  "  Thus  would  I  serve  the  original  if  the 
law  would  permit  me." 

This  reminds  me  of  another  strange  connubial  squabble.  A 
tradesman  and  his  wife  having  had  a  bitter  quarrel,  in  order  to  ap- 
pease their  fury  they  threw  all  their  portable  furniture  out  of  win- 
dow. The  wife  then  drew  the  bed  to  the  window,  ripped  the  tick- 
ing, and  set  all  the  feathers  afloat  in  the  open  air,  then  rushing  to  the 
banisters  of  the  stairs  and  breaking  her  arm  upon  them,  with  an 
insane  energy  exclaimed,  "  Now,  you  scoundrel,  you  must  pay  for  a 
surgeon  !" 

Dr.  Johnson.  It  is  not  improbable  that  my  father  might  have 
been  introduced  to  Dr.  Johnson  through  the  medium  of  Oldys,  or 
even  of  Derrick,  but  of  this  I  have  no  proof.  I  was  too  young  for 
such  an  introduction,  and  if  I  had  not,  I  should  not  have  been  more 
afraid  of  him  than  I  was  at  first  of  Dr.  Monsey,  who  was  as  rough  in 
his  manners,  but  by  no  means  so  domineering  and  brutal.  I  have 
often  heard  my  friend  Mr.  Cooke  the  barrister,  who  was  rather 
a  favourite  with  Johnson,  say  that  there  was  no  living  with  him  ex- 
cept by  yielding  to  him  with  slavish  submission. 

Johnson  was  inconsistent  in  his  character,  for  how  could  his  des- 
potism and  violence  be  reconciled  with  his  reverence  for  Chris- 
tianity, when  his  manners  were  totally  opposite  to  those  of  its  meek 
and  gentle  founder  ?  He  was  also  inconsistent  in  his  opinions,  of 
which  one  proof  is  sufficient  in  this  place.  In  his  "  Life  of  Pope,"  he 
says,  "  His  unjustifiable  impression  of  The  Patriot  King,  as  it  can  be 
imputed  to  no  particular  motive,  (why  not  ?)  must  have  proceeded 
from  his  general  habit  of  secrecy  and  cunning ;  he  caught  an  oppor- 
tunity of  a  sly  trick,  and  pleased  himself  with  the  thought  of  out- 

G2 


136 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


witting  Bolingbroke."  Here  then  he  assigns  a  motive.  But  is  it 
possible  to  suppose  that  Pope  should  be  ambitious  of  so  silly  and  con- 
temptible a  triumph  ?  Yet  a  few  pages  after,  he  says,  "  His  violation 
of  the  trust  reposed  in  him  by  Bolingbroke,  could  have  no  motive  in- 
consistent with  the  warmest  affection ;  he  either  thought  the  action 
so  near  to  indifferent  that  he  forgot  it,  or  so  laudable  that  he  expected 
his  friend  to  approve  it."  At  length  he  finally  agrees  with  War- 
burton,  who,  he  says,  "  supposes,  with  great  appearance  of  reason, 
that  the  irregularity  of  his  conduct  proceeded  wholly  from  his  zeal 
for  Bolingbroke,  who  might,  perhaps,  have  destroyed  the  pamphlet, 
which  Pope  thought  it  his  duty  to  preserve,  even  without  its  author's 
approbation."  This  motive  might  be  supposed  to  occur  at  first  to 
every  man  of  plain  understanding,  for  it  never  can  be  conceived  that 
Pope  desired  the  despicable  profit  of  selling  the  copies,  for  which  he 
must  have  waited  till  the  author's  death ;  nor  that  he  wanted  the 
reputation  of  having  written  the  pamphlet,  since  it  is  probable  that 
he  gave  to  Bolingbroke  the  few  copies  which  he  required  for  his 
friends,  and  that  Bolingbroke  presented  them  as  he  intended.  The 
same  motive  of  zealous  friendship  might  be  expected  io  occur  to 
Bolingbroke,  whose  rancour  on  the  subject  after  Pope's  death  was 
wholly  unjustifiable.  Pope  has  gratified  the  world  so  much  by  his 
genius,  that  it  is  but  a  general  duty  to  vindicate  his  memory. 

Dr.  Johnson  was  long  a  bigoted  Jacobite.  When  he  was  walking 
with  some  friends  in  Kensington  Gardens,  one  of  them  observed  that 
it  was  a  fine  place.  "  Phoo,"  said  Johnson,  "  nothing  can  be  fine 
that  belongs  to  a  usurper."  Dr.  Mousey  assured  me,  that  once  in 
company,  when  the  conversation  was  on  the  age  of  King  George  the 
Third,  he  heard  him  say,  "  What  does  it  signify  when  such  an  animal 
was  born,  or  whether  he  ever  existed  ?"  Yet  he  afterward  said,  in 
his  account  of  his  interview  with  his  majesty,  that  it  was  not  for  him 
" to  bandy  compliments  with  his  sovereign" 

Johnson  was  often  too  dogmatical  and  decisive  to  distinguish 
clearly.  He  says  in  his  "  Life  of  Pope,"  "  Aristotle  is  praised  for 
naming  fortitude  first  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  as  that  without  which 
no  other  virtue  can  steadily  be  practised  ;  but  he  might  with  equal 
propriety  have  placed  prudence  and  justice  before  it,  since  without 
prudence,  fortitude  is  mad  ;  without  justice  it  is  mischievous."  The 
doctor  here  seems  to  consider  fortitude  as  active  valour.  Surely 
the  proper  arrangement  wrould  be  temperance  to  secure  the  power 
of  acting,  prudence  to  act  properly,  justice  to  respect  the  rights  of 
others,  and  fortitude  to  bear  firmly  the  evils  of  life. 

Mr.  Godwin,  I  understand,  has  said  that  no  original  thought  can 
be  found  in  all  the  works  of  Johnson.  Admitting  this  assertion  to  be 
well  founded,  it  may,  however,  be  justly  urged  in  his  favour,  that,  to 
use  his  own  words,  he  has  "  recommended  known  truths  by  his  man- 
ner of  adorning  them  f  that  he  has  "  varied  the  dress  and  situation  of 
common  objects,  so  as  to  give  them  fresh  grace  and  more  powerful 
attractions."  He  has  given  dignity  to  the  English  language,  and  a 
body  of  criticism  upon  the  English  poets,  written  in  a  masterly  style, 


THOMAS  TYERS,  ESQ. 


137 


and,  with  some  exceptions,  generally  with  acuteness,  judgment,  and 
liberality.  But  I  may  venture  at  least  to  say,  that  Mr.  Godwin  has 
overlooked  one  instance  in  which  Johnson  has  shown  a  new,  inge- 
nious, and  liberal  vindication  of  a  passage  in  Dryden,  for  which  that 
great  poet  was  annoyed  by  persevering  ridicule,  and  appeared  unable 
to  defend  himself. 
The  passage  is  as  follows  : 

"  A  horrid  stillness  first  invades  the  ear, 
And  in  that  silence  we  a  tempest /ear." 

*'  for  which,"  says  Johnson,  "  he  wTas  persecuted  with  perpetual  ridi- 
cule, perhaps  with  more  than  was  deserved.  Silence  is,  indeed,  mere 
privation  ;  and  so  considered,  cannot  invade  ;  but  privation  likewise 
certainly  is  darkness,  and  probably  cold  ;  yet  poetry  has  never  been 
refused  the  right  of  ascribing  effects  or  agency  to  them  as  to  positive 
powers.  No  man  scruples  to  say  that  darkness  hinders  him  from  his 
work ;  or  that  cold  has  killed  the  plants.  Death  is  also  privation, 
yet  who  has  made  any  difficulty  of  assigning  to  death  a  dart  and  the 
power  of  striking  V 

This  is  certainly  a  very  ingenious  defence  of  what  it  would  be  very 
difficult  to  justify  in  any  other  manner,  but  which,  after  all,  may 
rather  be  considered  as  ingenious  sophistry  than  sound  argument : 
still,  it  is  original. 

Thomas  Tyers,  Esq.  This  gentleman  was  the  son  of  the  original 
projector  and  proprietor  of  Vauxhall  Gardens.  He  received  a  good 
education,  and  was  bred  to  the  bar,  but  was  of  too  sensitive  a  dispo- 
sition for  wrangling  courts,  and  having  inherited  a  liberal  competency, 
he  relinquished  the  law,  and  devoted  himself  to  friendship  and 
literary  pursuits.  Having  a  turn  for  poetry,  he  furnished  many  songs 
for  Vauxhall  Gardens,  which  were  very  popular  in  their  day,  and 
which,  if  not  characterized  by  wit  and  humour,  were  always  recom- 
mended by  sentiment,  feeling,  and  pastoral  simplicity.  He  was  a 
great  literary  purveyor,  and  according  to  Johnson,  in  his  "  Life  of 
Pope,"  ascertained  the  doubtful  point  of  what  business  the  poet's 
father  had  pursued,  which  Mr.  Tyers  discovered  to  have  been  that 
of  a  linen-draper. 

Mr.  Tyers  was  very  intimate  with  Johnson,  and  was  one  of  his 
earliest  visiters  in  the  morning.  But  though  Johnson  held  him  in 
great  esteem,  and  felt  much  relief  from  his  conversation  and  his 
accounts  of  public  occurrences,  yet  Mr.  Tyers,  with  all  the  mildness 
of  his  own  character,  could  not  escape  Johnson's  rough  asperity. 
When  Mr.  Tyers  called  on  him  one  morning,  and  fold  him  that  he 
had  just  taken  chambers  which  had  been  occupied  by  Sir  Fletcher 
Norton,  "  I  wish,"  said  the  surly  censor,  "  that  you  had  taken  his 
understanding  at  the  same  time." 

Mr.  Tyers  was  the  author  of  innumerable  productions,  which  he 
published  anonymously,  and  chiefly  in  the  Public  Advertiser,  then 
the  chief  daily  journal,  and  possessing  numerous  and  valuable  con- 


138 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


tributors.  He  put  his  name  to  "  A  Sketch  of  the  Life  of  Pope,"  to 
another  of  the  Life  of  Addison,  and  to  one,  I  believe,  of  a  Life  of  John- 
son. He  wrote  many  dialogues  of  the  dead,  a  species  of  composition 
to  which  he  was  very  partial,  and  which  having  given  to  the  Public 
Advertiser,  he  collected  into  a  volume,  and  published  with  his  name. 
He  was  very  good  tempered,  and  very  communicative.  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  him  for  many  years,  and  when  we  met  in  the 
street,  our  interviews  were  not  very  short,  for  I  listened  with  plea- 
sure and  instruction  to  his  intelligent  conversation,  and  he  was  always 
kindly  ready  to  prolong  it. 

One  day  passing  his  apartments  in  Southampton-street,  Covent 
Garden,  he  called  me  in,  and  gave  me  a  profile  print  of  himself,  say- 
ing, "  There,  take  that,  but  I  am  no  framer  and  glazier."  The  print 
was  engraved  from  a  drawing  in  crayons,  by  my  old  friend  Mr.  Tay- 
lor the  artist,  who  was  a  pupil  of  the  celebrated  Frank  Hayman ; 
and  the  drawing  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Barrett,  the  niece 
of  Mr.  Tyers,  and  the  old  friend  of  Johnson,  Garrick,  Goldsmith,  and 
all  the  wits  of  her  youth,  when  she  probably  attracted  them. 

"William  Taylor,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  a  native  of  Scotland, 
who  was  generally  styled  "  Opera  Taylor,"  from  his  having  become 
proprietor  of  the  King's  Theatre,  was  an  early  acquaintance  of  mine. 
He  had  been  one  of  the  clerks  in  a  banking-house  that  failed,  before 
he  was  known  to  the  world  at  large.  Sheridan,  on  some  emergency, 
not  uncommon  with  him,  being  then  connected  with  the  King's  Thea- 
tre, wanted  a  thousand  pounds.  Taylor  heard  of  this  necessity,  and 
having  contrived  to  raise  that  sum,  offered  it  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  upon 
having  security  on  his  share  in  that  theatre.  The  bargain  was  struck 
on  this  condition ;  and  Taylor,  who  possessed  what  is  called  a  strong 
head,  and  was  gifted  with  a  "  second  sight"  of  possible  advantages, 
contrived  by  degrees  to  become  the  chief,  if  not  the  sole  proprietor 
of  the  Italian  Opera  House,  and  afterward  a  member  of  the  House 
of  Commons. 

He  soon  after  formed  a  connexion  with  Signora  Prudom,  an  Ital- 
ian singer,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  %vas  actually  mar- 
ried to  her.  How  his  harsh  Scotch  dialect,  and  he  knew  no  other 
language,  could  harmonize  with  her  melodious  tongue,  it  is  difficult 
to  conceive.  By  extravagance  in  living,  and  without  any  solid 
pecuniary  foundation,  he  became  much  embarrassed,  and  was  obliged 
to  mortgage  his  property  in  the  King's  Theatre,  and  at  length  was 
under  such  difficulties  that  it  was  thought  impossible  he  could  ever 
recover  his  property.  The  matter  came  before  Lord  Thurlow, 
when  he  was  lord  chancellor,  and  here  occurred  "  the  glorious  un- 
certainty of  the  law."  Lord  Thurlow,  on  examining  the  claim  of 
Mr.  Taylor,  said,  that  "  No  magnifying  power  could  render  his  right 
visible."  Yet  Mr.  Taylor  regained  his  authority  over  the  Kings 
Theatre,  and  disposed  of  it  to  other  hands. 

Pending  a  subsequent  suit  on  the  same  subject  and  before  the 
same  lord,  there  happened  a  proof  of  the  danger  of  judicial  joking, 
>for  his  lordship  having  animadverted  on  the  complicated  and  inex- 


WILLIAM  TAYLOR,  ESQ. — PROFESSOR  PORSOtf. 


139 


licable  state  of  the  Opera  House,  said,  that  he  thought  "  Nothing 
ut  a  good  fire  could  extinguish  the  perplexity."  His  lordship's  hint 
was  taken,  and  in  a  short  time  after,  the  Opera  House  was  destroyed 
by  a  fire,  the  purpose  of  which  was  to  get  rid  of  Sir  John  Gallini, 
and  to  remove  all  impediments  to  the  restoration  of  Mr.  Taylor.  I 
knew  the  person  who  was  supposed  to  have  promoted  this  confla- 
gration, and  who,  it  was  reported,  soon  after  sunk  into  the  grave 
from  dejection  on  the  disappointment  of  his  hopes,  rather  than  repent- 
ance for  his  crime.  The  trustees  of  the  King's  Theatre  then  em- 
ployed my  old  friend  Mr.  James  Wyat,  R.A.  to  convert  this  beautiful 
Pantheon  into  an  Opera  House,  which  enabled  them  to  carry  on  the 
performances. 

During  the  performances  at  the  Pantheon  Theatre,  the  Opera 
House  being  soon  rebuilt,  Mr.  Taylor,  knowing  my  friendship  with 
Mrs.  Billmgton,  and  overrating  my  interest  with  her,  applied  to  me 
to  desire  that  1  would  endeavour  to  induce  her  to  accept  an  engage- 
ment with  him  in  some  musical  undertaking  which  he  had  projected 
for  opening  the  old  theatre  in  the  Haymarket.  I  told  him  that  I  did 
not  think  I  had  so  much  influence  with  Mrs.  Blilington,  but  that  if 
I  had,  I  could  not  exert  it,  as  Mr.  William  Sheldon,  one  of  the  trus- 
tees of  the  Pantheon,  had  been  instrumental  in  procuring  me  the 
appointment  of  oculist  to  his  majesty  George  the  Third,  and  I  should 
be  therefore  ungrateful  indeed,  if  I  in  any  measure  opposed  that  gen- 
tleman. This  refusal  on  my  part,  as  gratitude  always  appeared  to 
Mr.  Taylor  to  be  a  needless  restraint,  deprived  me  of  his  friendship  ; 
-and  as  the  state  of  his  affairs  rendered  it  necessary  that  he  should 
live  in  retirement,  I  hardly  ever  saw  him  afterward.  Mr.  Jewell,  his 
treasurer,  and  the  treasurer  of  the  Haymarket,  kept  up  a  connexion 
with  him  till  his  death,  but  how  Taylor  was  able  to  live  it  is  difficult  to 
conjecture.    He  survived  Mr.  Jewell,  who  was  a  very  worthy  man. 

Professor  Porson.  The  first  time  I  met  this  literary  leviathan 
was  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peters,  one  evening,  when  he  was 
accompanied  by  Dr.  White,  the  author  of  the  celebrated  "  Bampton 
Lectures."  It  was  invidiously  discovered  or  reprehensibly  betrayed 
by  Mr.  Badcock,  that  he  had  given  essential  assistance  to  the  doctor 
in  the  composition  of  those  lectures.  It  may  reasonably  be  inferred, 
that  Mr.  Badcock  assisted  Dr.  White  from  motives  of  friendship  or 
of  interest.  In  either  case  he  violated  confidence.  If  he  gave  his 
assistance  from  friendship,  his  disclosure  was  vain  and  treacherous ; 
if  from  interest,  it  was  mean  and  unjust ;  for  it  is  probable  that  the 
doctor  would  not  have  solicited  or  purchased  his  aid,  if  he  had 
thought  the  secret  would  have  been  disclosed.  Upon  the  same 
principle,  with  all  my  reference  for  the  character  of  Dr.  Johnson,  I 
always  thought  he  acted  illiberally,  if  not  unjustly,  in  discovering  to 
Mr.  Boswell  all  the  productions  which  he  had  written  for  other  persons, 
for  many  of  which  he  had  actually  been  paid ;  and  having  given  the 
rest,  liny  were  no  longer  his  own  ;  for  he  had  suffered  them  to  pass 
under  the  names  of  others,  and  had  therefore  no  longer  any  claim  to 
them. 


140 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Whether  Porson  was  drunk  when  I  met  him  on  this  occasion,  or 
whether  he  intentionally  showed  his  contempt  for  the  doctor,  Mr. 
Peters,  and  myself,  I  know  not ;  but  he  did  not  once  join  in  conver- 
sation, and  kept  playing  with  a  little  dog  all  the  time  he  was  present, 
except  when  oysters  and  brandy-and- water  were  introduced, — then 
the  dog  was  deserted,  and  the  oysters  came  into  play.  When  he 
had  finished  with  these,  he  resorted  to  the  brandy,  and  resumed  his 
attention  to  the  dog. 

For  myself,  I  did  not  mind  his  indifference  ;  but  was  shocked  to 
see  such  contemptuous  negligence  towards  his  host,  Mr.  Peters,  and 
Dr.  White,  his  friends.  The  dog  and  the  brandy-and-water  wholly 
engrossed  his  attention.  He  did  not  quit  the  house  till  a  late  hour. 
Dr.  White  seemed  to  view  the  conduct  of  his  friend  with  composure, 
as  if  it  was  nothing  extraordinary,  but  "  his  custom  ever  of  an  after- 
noon." Mr.  Peters,  on  the  contrary,  justly  considered  it  as  rude, 
contemptuous,  and  insolent. 

I  afterward  used  to  meet  Porson  every  night  at  the  Turk's  Head 
in  the  Strand,  where  he  retained  his  devotion  to  brandy-and-water,. 
and  often  tired  the  company  with  his  recital  of  a  burlesque  parody 
of  Pope's  exquisite  poem  of  "  Eloisa  to  Abelard."  It  was  doubted 
whether  this  travesty  of  Pope's  beautiful  poem  was  his  own  writing, 
but  the  warmth  and  frequency  of  his  obtrusive  recitations  evidently 
manifested  parental  dotage.  A  limited  number  of  this  offensive 
poem  has  been  lately  published  at  a  large  price,  as  if  indecency  were 
held  rare  and  valuable.  Mr.  James  Perry,  the  proprietor  of  "  The 
Morning  Chronicle,"  who  was  reputed  to  have  died  worth  about 
130,0001,  was  a  particular  friend  of  Porson,  who,  it  is  supposed,  used 
often  to  write  political  articles  for  him  in  that  paper. 

When  I  first  knew  Mr.  Perry,  he  lived  at  a  house  in  the  narrow 
part  of  Shire-lane,  Temple  B-ar,  opposite  to  the  lane  which  leads  to 
ihe  stairs  from  Boswell-court.  He  lodged  with  Mr.  Lunan,  a  book- 
binder, who  had  married  his  sister.  1  knew  her  very  well.  She 
was  a  mild,  amiable,  and  agreeable  woman.  When  her  brother  left 
Shire-lane,  and  took  chambers  in  Clement's  Inn,  she  went  to  apart- 
ments in  George-street,  York  Buildings,  where  I  occasionally  called 
on  her ;  and  as  she  lived  single,  I  concluded  that  Mr.  Lunan  was 
dead,  or,  not  succeeding  in  business,  had  gone  abroad  ;  but  I  did  not 
inquire. 

A  few  years  after,  I  saw  the  newspapers  announce  the  marriage  of 
Professor  Porson  with  this  lady,  who  I  therefore  naturally  concluded 
had  become  a  widow.  Not  long  after,  as  I  was  coming  over  West- 
minster Bridge,  I  was  saluted  by  Mr.  Lunan,  the  former  husbandjof 
this  lady.  After  the  usual  courtesy  I  said,  "  How  is  this,  my  friend  ? 
— why  I  saw  lately  in  the  newspaper  that  your  wife  is  married  to 
Professor  Porson,  and  if  I  had  met  you  at  twelve  at  night  instead  of 
twelve  at  noon,  I  must  have  taken  you  for  a  ghost."  It  was  true,  he 
said,  that  Porson  had  married  his  wife  ;  and  that  he  had  also  been 
married  again  several  years.  I  inquired  no  farther,  but  parted  with 
him  in  Hungerford  Market,  where  he  appeared  to  reside.    I  con- 


MR.  JAMES  TERRY — MR.  SAMUEL  IRESAND. 


141 


eluded  that  as  they  were  both  born  in  Scotland,  some  ceremony  had 
passed  between  them  in  that  country  which  they  did  not  think  bind- 
ing in  this  ;  not  that  they  had  acted  upon  the  principle  of  Archer  in 
the  play : — 

Consent,  if  mutual,  saves  the  lawyer's  fee, 
Consent  is  law  enough  to  set  you  free. 

I  never  saw  Porson  or  the  lady  after  this  extraordinary  marriage ; 
but  I  remember  her  with  respect,  and  think  she  was  thrown  away, 
as  she  was  a  very  amiable  woman,  upon  such  a  sybarite. 

Perry  had  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Grey,  a  learned,  sensible  man,  and 
an  able  writer,  in  the  conduct  of  "  The  Morning  Chronicle."  Grey, 
according  to  report,  had  a  right  to  half  the  property  of  the  paper 
while  he  lived,  and  his  share  was  subject  to  a  provision  for  his  sisters 
in  case  of  his  death.  Perry  had  afterward  the  powerful  support  of 
a  gentleman  of  great  literary  talent,  who  had  also  a  part  of  the  pro- 
perty of  the  paper,  but  resigned  it  for  a  compensation,  and. is  now  in 
high  reputation  at  the  bar.  It  is  not  understood  that  Mr.  Perry  wrote 
much  in  the  paper  himself,  but,  mixing  with  the  whig  party,  as  they 
styled  themselves,  at  Debrett's,  he  obtained  all  the  intelligence  they 
could  afford  him,  as  well  as  many  able  productions  from  the  literary 
members  of  that  party.  Whatever  were  his  qualities  as  a  writer  or 
a  man,  he  had  at  least  the  merit  of  political  consistency.  He  was 
once  committed  to  Newgate  for  having  inserted  a  libel  in  his  paper 
on  government.  He  published  a  well- written  defence,  the  materials 
of  which,  according  to  report,  were  suggested  by  Lord  Erskine. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Mr.  Samuel  Ireland.  I  became  acquainted  with  this  gentleman 
at  the  time  when  he  produced  the  mass  of  papers,  letters,  dramas,  &c. 
which  he  published  upon  the  information  of  his  son,  who  represented 
them  as  the  genuine  relics  of  Shakspeare,  chiefly  in  the  hand- 
writing of  the  great  poet.  I  was  invited  as  one  of  a  committee  to 
examine  all  the  documents,  and  to  decide  upon  the  question  of  their 
authenticity.  As  I  was  not  conversant  with  old  papers,  I  did  not  at- 
tend the  meeting  with  any  intention  of  joining  in  the  decision,  but  to 
see  the  various  articles  that  were  brought  forward  as  once  the  pro- 
perty of  Shakspeare.  After  the  company,  consisting  of  many  very 
respectable  and  intelligent  characters,  had  looked  at  all  the  books 
which  were  said  to  have  actually  formed  a  portion  of  Shakspeare's 
library,  as  well  as  other  matters,  they  waited  for  young  Mr.  Ireland, 
who  had  promised  to  develope  the  source  of  these  valuable  relics. 
At  length  he  appeared,  and  after  some  private  conversation  between 


142 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LtFE. 


him  and  Mr.  Albany  Wallace,  an  eminent  solicitor  at  that  time, 
the  latter  addressed  the  company,  and  told  them  that  Mr.  Ireland, 
junior,  had  not  been  authorized  by  the  person  from  whom  he  had 
derived  the  matters  in  question,  but  that  at  a  future  meeting  a  full  ex- 
planation should  be  given.  Whether  that  meeting  was  ever  convened 
I  know  not,  but  I  remember  that  the  previous  meeting  did  not  break 
up  without  manifest  tokens  of  discontent  on  the  part  of  several  of  the 
members. 

During  the  time  that  this  subject  engrossed  public  attention,  and  it 
was  understood  that  Shakspeare's  manuscript  play  was  to  be  repre- 
sented, the  elder  Mr.  Ireland  invited  the  late  John  Gifford,  Esq.,  the 
author  of  «  The  Life  of  Mr.  Pitt,"  of  "  Letters  to  Lord  Lauderdale," 
*'  The  History  of  France,"  and  many  other  works,  a  gentleman  of  the 
bar,  and  myself,  to  hear  the  tragedy  of  "  Vortigern  and  Rowena" 
read  by  him,  that  we  might  form  some  judgment  as  to  its  merits  and 
authenticity.  Among  the  imputed  relics  of  the  bard  there  was  an 
old-fashioned  long- backed  chair  on  which  the  arms  of  Shakspeare 
were  embossed.  The  chair,  though  antique  in  its  form,  was  in  per- 
fect preservation.  Tea  was  soon  despatched,  and  the  reading  was 
about  to  commence,  when  I  requested  to  sit  in  Shakspeare's  chair,  as 
it  might  contain  some  inspiring  power  to  enlighten  my  understanding, 
and  enable  me  the  better  to  judge.  They  laughed  at  my  whim,  but 
indulged  me  with  the  chair.  During  the  reading  there  appeared  to 
be  passages  of  great  poetical  merit,  and  of  an  original  cast,  but  occa- 
sionally some  very  quaint  expressions,  upon  which  Mr.  Gifford  com- 
mented as  often  as  they  occurred.  Mr.  Ireland  observed,  that  it  was 
of  course  the  language  of  the  time,  and  that  many  of  the  words 
which  wrere  then  probably  familiar  and  expressive,  had  become  obso- 
lete. One  passage,  however,  Mr.  Ireland  admitted  to  be  so  quaint 
and  unintelligible,  that  it  would  not  be  suitable  to  the  modern  stage. 
He  then  referred  to  Mr.  Gifford  and  the  barrister,  and  asked  them  if 
they  could  suggest  any  alteration  or  remoulding  of  the  passage  ;  and 
when  they  declined  to  propose  any  thing,  he  asked  me  if  I  could  sug- 
gest any  modification  of  it.  At  this  question  I  affected  to  start,  and 
said,  "  God  bless  me,  shall  I  sit  in  Shakspeare's  chair,  and  presume 
to  think  I  can  improve  any  work  from  his  unrivalled  muse  1"  Mr. 
Ireland  then  calmly  doubled  down  the  page,  observing  that  he  was 
going  into  the  country,  and  should  have  leisure  to  make  any  altera- 
tion. This  observation  first  induced  me  to  suspect  that  he  was  ac- 
tually concerned  in  devising  what  was  afterward  acknowledged  to  be 
a  mere  fabrication.  Yet  on  a  full  consideration,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  Mr.  Ireland  really  confided  in  the  story  of  his  son,  and 
relied  on  the  authenticity  of  all  the  imputed  materials. 

I  was  present  at  the  representation  of  the  tragedy,  and  perhaps  a 
more  crowded  theatre  was  never  seen.  Mr.  Ireland  and  his  family 
occupied  a  conspicuous  station  in  the  front  boxes.  The  play  was 
patiently  heard  for  some  time,  but  at  last  the  disapprobation  of  the 
audience  assumed  every  vociferous  mode  of  hostility,  together  with 
<iie  more  hopeless  annoyance  of  laughter  and  derision.    Mr.  Ireland 


VS.  SAMUEL  IRELAND. 


143 


bore  the  storm  for  some  time  with  great  fortitude,  but  at  Inst  he  and 
his  family  suddenly  withdrew  from  the  theatre,  and  the  play  ended  in 
the  tumult. 

The  elder  Mr.  Ireland  afterward  published  all  these  presumed 
documents  in  a  large  and  expensive  form,  and  in  a  well-written 
volume  defended  himself  against  the  attacks  of  Mr.  Malone.  Mr. 
Malone  had  given  him  an  advantage  in  refusing  to  look  at  these  al- 
leged remains  of  our  great  bard,  and  Mr.  Isaac  Reed  also  declined  to 
inspect  them.  As  I  respect  the  memory  of  both  these  gentlemen, 
I  cannot  but  think  that  they  displayed  some  degree  of  prejudice  on 
the  occasion.  Mr.  Malone,  in  particular,  however  well  founded  his 
doubts  and  suspicions  might  be,  could  only  depend  on  rumour  as  to 
their  nature  and  the  quality  of  the  materials.  Yet  he  wrote  a  large 
volume  on  the  subject,  though  his  objections  must  necessarily  have 
been  chiefly  conjectural.  He  was  ably  answered  by  my  late  friend 
Mr.  George  Chalmers,  not  that  he  believed  in  the  authenticity,  but  to 
show  that  the  believers  had  grounds  to  justify  their  opinions.  He 
published  a  second  volume  on  the  same  subject,  which  displayed 
great  labour,  assiduity,  and  perseverance,  and  brought  forward  many 
anecdotes  and  illustrations  of  our  poetical  history. 

It  is  well  known  that  Dr.  Parr  was  at  first  a  sincere  believer  in  the 
authenticity  of  these  documents,  and  that  Mr.  Boswell  went  upon  his 
knees,  kissed  the  imputed  relics,  and  expressed  great  delight  that 
he  had  lived  to  see  such  valuable  documents  brought  to  light.  It  cer- 
tainly was  a  bold  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  fabricator  to  bring  for- 
ward such  a  mass  of  surreptitious  productions,  but  the  variety  proved 
that  he  possessed  talents  and  great  ingenuity,  as  well  as  industry,  for 
they  must  have  taken  up  much  time  and  labour  in  the  composition. 
It  is  said  that  he  at  last  acknowledged  the  whole  to  be  a  deception. 

I  met  him  one  night  at  the  theatre,  and  to  show  me  with  what 
facility  he  could  copy  the  signatures  of  Shakspeare,  of  which  there 
are  but  two  extant,  and  they  differ  from  each  other,  he  took  a  pencil 
and  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  wrote  both  of  them  with 
as  much  speed  and  exactness  as  if  he  had  been  writing  his  own  name. 
He  gave  the  paper  to  me  ;  I  compared  the  signatures  with  the  printed 
autographs  of  the  poet,  and  could  not  but  be  surprised  at  the  ac- 
curacy. 

The  eider  Mr.  Ireland  must  have  been  mad  to  incur  so  great  an 
expense  in  preparing  and  printing  these  documents,  if  he  was  conscious 
of  the  deception ;  but  I  am  still  disposed  to  believe  (hat  he  thought 
them  genuine,  notwithstanding  the  ease  with  which  1  have  mentioned 
his  avowed  intention  to  alter  the  text  of  Shakspeare.  Before  this 
transaction  took  place,  he  was  a  remarkably  healthy-looking  man, 
with  a  florid  complexion,  and  stout  in  his  form ;  but  afterward  he 
was  so  reduced  in  his  body,  and  seemed  to  be  so  dejected  in  spirit, 
that  I  naturally  inferred  the  disappointment,  expense,  and  critical 
hostility  which  he  had  suffered,  had  made  a  powerful  impression  on 
his  mind.  He  did  not  long  survive  this  extraordinary  attempt  to 
delude  the  public. 


144  RECORDS  or  MY  life. 

Mr.  John  Ireland.  This  person,  who  has  often  been  confounded 
with  the  other,  I  knew  very  well.  He  was  a  watchmaker,  and  lived 
many  years  practising  that  business  in  Maiden-lane,  Covent  Gardeis. 
He  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Henderson,  the  actor,  but  pecu- 
niary matters,  which  have  often  destroyed  friendship,  separated  these 
once  intimate  associates.  It  was  reported  at  the  time,  that  when 
Henderson  by  prudence  had  realized  600/.,  Mr.  Ireland  advised  him 
to  embark  it  in  his  business,  from  which  he  said  he  could  derive  more 
advantage  than  by  investing  it  in  the  funds.  Henderson  consented ; 
but  Ireland  being  a  literary  man,  and  finding  employment  among  the 
booksellers,  and  preferring  literature  to  trade,  neglected  his  business, 
and,  I  believe,  became  a  bankrupt.  Henderson  consequently  lost 
his  money.  He  deeply  resented  this  failure,  as  the  money  was  the 
first-fruits  of  his  theatrical  career.  He  never  forgave  Ireland,  and 
Jesse  Foot  told  me  that  he  had  in  vain  attempted  to  bring  them 
together  again,  and  Mr.  Foot  reviled  the  memory  of  Henderson  for 
his  obduracy.  On  the  other  hand,  the  late  Mr.  William  Cooke,  who 
was  a  friend  of  Henderson  and  a  severe  economist,  bitterly  arraigned 
the  memory  of  Ireland,  whom  he  accused  of  deliberate  treachery 
towards  Henderson. 

I  really  believe,  from  what  I  know  of  Ireland,  that  when  he  took 
the  money  he  had  no  ill  intention,  but  his  literary  pursuits  led  him  to 
neglect  his  business,  and  misfortune  was  the  consequence.  He  was 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Hogarth,  and  was  employed  to  illustrate 
the  works  of  that  admirable  artist.  He  made  discoveries  of  works 
not  known  to  have  been  Hogarth's  till  they  were  proved  so  by  his 
assiduity.  He  was  a  connoisseur  in  prints  and  works  of  art,  and  full 
of  anecdotes  relating  to  contemporary  artists.  On  the  death  of 
Henderson  he  published  a  life  of  his  old  friend,  and  endeavoured  by 
a  warm  tribute  to  his  talents  to  compensate  for  the  injury  which  he 
had  done  to  his  fortune. 

After  his  failure  he  never  resumed  his  business,  but  devoted  himself 
to  the  service  of  the  booksellers.  I  used  to  call  on  him  at  a  small 
house  which  he  occupied  in  Poet's  Corner,  near  Westminster  Abbey, 
and  to  meet  him  among  the  set  who,  with  Porson  and  Perry, 
generally  assembled  in  the  evening  at  the  Turk's  Head  Coffee-house, 
in  the  Strand.  He  was  slender  and  delicate  in  his  person,  and  placid 
and  agreeable  in  his  manners.  I  never  heard  when  he  died.  He 
was  patronised  by  the  Boydells,  and  the  late  Mr.  George  Nicol. 

There  was  one  very  extraordinary  character  who  used  to  join  the 
literary  and  social  set  at  the  Turk's  Head  Coffee-house,  whose  name 
was  Hewardine.  He  was  a  good-looking  young  man,  and  his  spirits 
were  inexhaustible.  To  use  an  expression  of  Dr.  Johnson,  he  "  hung 
loose  upon  the  town."  Nobody  knew  how  he  lived,  but  at  last  there 
was  some  reason  to  believe  that  he  derived  his  support  from  a 
member  of  parliament,  who  was  very  rich  in  mining  property,  and 
who  supported  him  as  kings  formerly  supported  jesters,  to  entertain 
themselves  and  their  company.  It  did  not  appear  that  Hewardine 
had  any  classical  attainments,  but  he  certainly  possessed  talents, 


IIEWARDINE. 


145 


though  they  took  a  strange  direction.  As  far  as  I  could  venture  to 
form  an  opinion  of  a  language  which  I  never  studied,  he  was  the 
most  perfect  master  of  what  is  called  slang  that  I  ever  knew.  Slang 
is  a  metaphorical  and  figurative  language,  and  he  who  is  not  the  mere 
channel  of  it  must  be  possessed  of  fancy  and  humour. 

There  is  great  ingenuity  shown  in  giving  a  novel  cast  to  the  recital 
of  ordinary  occurrences,  or  to  answers  in  a  dialogue.  This  ingenuity 
was  peculiarly  manifested  in  all  that  Hewardine  said.  I  wish  I  could 
give  a  specimen  of  his  skill  in  this  respect ;  but  so  many  years  have 
passed  since  I  knew  him,  that  even  were  I  conversant  with  the  lan- 
guage in  question,  1  should  do  injustice  to  his  imagination.  I  re- 
member that  he  was  a  formidable  opponent  in  sallies  of  humour,  and 
have  seen  Porson,  and  some  of  the  most  ready  and  intelligent  of  the 
company,  shrink  from  his  attacks.  I  took  care  never  to  enter  into  a 
contest  with  him,  but  was  always  attentive  to  the  exuberance  of  his 
humour  and  the  singularity  of  his  expressions. 

I  was  once  invited  to  dine  in  company  with  him  at  a  friend's  in 
the  Temple,  under  a  notion  too  favourable  to  me,  as  it  was  expected 
that  some  entertainment  might  arise  from  a  sportive  hostility  between 
us.  I  was  aware  of  the  expectation,  but  knew  better  than  to  hazard 
the  encounter,  because  1  could  not  oppose  him  with  equal  weapons, 
I  therefore  considered  by  what  means  I  should  avoid  the  contest,  and 
thought  the  best  way  would  be  to  praise  him  for  his  power  of  adapting 
his  conversation  to  the  peculiar  turn  of  those  with  whom  he  generally 
associated,  and  of  rising  to  the  level  of  nobler  companions.  I  recorded 
his  triumphs  at  the  coifee-house,  where  no  serious  conversation  was 
expected,  and  if  introduced,  would  only  lead  to  banter  and  ridicule ; 
and  expressed  my  satisfaction  that  I  now  found  him  among  gentlemen 
of  the  bar,  and  two  or  three  members  of  the  church,  so  that  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  calling  forth  his  best  powers  and  attainments,  and 
doing  justice  to  his  character,  without  unworthy  condescensions  to 
persons  of  different  and  inferior  habits.  This  artifice  of  mine,  which 
wras  merely  designed  for  self-defence,  was  attended  with  success. 
He  felt  that  he  wras  in  company  where  ribaldry,  buffoonery,  and 
something  worse  would  be  quite  unseasonable.  The  result  w  as,  that 
though  he  was  more  dull  than  ever  I  had  seen  him  before,  he  was 
more  decorous,  conversation  in  general  had  fair  play,  and  the  company 
were  more  gratified  and  amused  than  they  could  have  been  by  the 
wild  sallies  of  his  humorous  eccentricity,  which,  perhaps,  few  in  the 
room  would  have  understood  or  have  been  likely  to  relish. 

Even  Hewardine  seemed  to  entertain  a  higher  opinion  of  himself 
when  he  found  that  he  was  treated  with  attention  by  gentlemen  of 
talents,  learning,  and  character,  without  the  necessity  of  resorting  to 
degrading  excesses.  He  seemed  to  be  one  of  those  careless  charac- 
ters, who,  as  Hotspur  says,  "  doff  the  world  and  bid  it  pass ;"  or,  as 
Dr.  Johnson  says  of  the  famous  Tom  Brown,  who  sacrificed  good 
talents  for  the  reputation  of  being  a  good  fellow. 

Hewardine,  I  am  persuaded,  possessed  a  kind  and  good  heart,  but 


146 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


he  could  not  deny  himself  the  triumph  of  running  down  a  simpleton, 
and  never  seemed  to  consider  that,  as  Thomson  says — 

"  Poor  is  the  triumph  o'er  the  timid  hare." 

He  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  good-looking  man.  He  had  regular 
features,  which  were  capable  of  animated  expression.  The  last 
time  I  met  him  was  in  the  morning,  at  Charing  Cross.  Though  in 
the  meridian  of  life,  he  spoke  with  a  tremulous  accent,  and  an 
evident  appearance  of  a  nervous  frame.  He  complained  of  being 
chilly,  and  from  his  habits  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  went  to  the  first 
shop  which  afforded  a  dram  after  we  parted.  He  published  a  small 
volume  of  poems,  chiefly  songs,  of  a  very  gay  and  licentious  descrip- 
tion, as  far  as  I  recollect.  When  or  where  he  died  I  never  knew, 
but  I  remember  him  with  a  kind  concern,  fully  convinced  that  if  he 
had  been  brought  properly  forward  in  public  life,  with  the  advantage 
of  a  good  education  and  regular  connexions,  he  would  not  have 
submitted  to  be  a  degrading  dependant  upon  any  man  who  did  not 
employ  his  wealth  in  protecting  and  encouraging  talents,  but  in 
fostering  licentious  merriment  and  gross  buffoonery. 

Cervetto.  This  celebrated  musician  was  a  performer  in  the 
orchestra  of  Drury-lane  Theatre  in  the  days  of  Garrick.  He  was 
esteemed  a  first-rate  performer  on  the  violoncello.  The  nose  being 
a  prominent  feature  in  his  face,  it  gave  occasion  to  the  cry  of"  Nosey," 
which  was  not  only  prevalent  in  the  upper  gallery  during  his  con- 
tinuance in  the  orchestra,  but  was  traditional  after  he  left,  it,  and  is 
still  often  heard.  He  was  a  high-spirited  man,  but  of  a  quiet  and 
affable  disposition.  The  following  anecdote  I  had  from  his  son,  a 
gentleman  now  alive,  though  advanced  in  years,  who  inherits  the 
professional  skill  and  benevolent  disposition  of  his  father. 

The  elder  Cervetto,  during  his  performance  in  the  band,  was  struck 
by  an  apple  thrown  at  him  from  the  upper  gallery.  He  immediately 
took  one  of  the  sentinels  who  attended  the  theatre,  and  proceeded 
with  him  to  the  upper  gallery,  where,  having  had  the  offender  pointed 
out,  he  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  took  him  to  the  public-office  in 
Bow-street,  where  he  was  convicted  of  the  assault,  and  ordered  into 
confinement  for  a  few  days.  Cervetto,  who  was  a  very  humane 
character,  the  next  day,  or  the  day  after,  reflecting  that  the  man 
might  have  been  drunk,  or  among  some  mischievous  persons,  and 
tempted  into  the  wanton  act,  was  so  uneasy,  that  he  went  to  Sir 
John  Fielding,  who  then  presided  at  the  police-office,  solicited  and 
obtained  the  man's  discharge,  paid  his  fees,  and  gave  him  some  money 
for  the  loss  of  time  and  labour  which  the  imprisonment  had  occasioned, 
as  he  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  lower  order  of  artisans.  In  a  few 
months  after,  his  health  appearing  to  decline,  Mr.  Cervetto  was  ad- 
vised to  ride  on  horseback  for  a  few  hours  everyday.  In  pursuance 
of  this  advice  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  was,  unluckily,  in  crossing 
Oxford-street,  involved  in  the  crowd  that  accompanied  the  cart  in 


V 


CERVETTO  THE  MUSICIAN.  147 

which  culprits  were  then  conveyed  to  be  executed  at  Tyburn.  On 
turning  his  head  to  look  on  the  unfortunate  malefactor,  who  was  the 
only  prisoner,  he  recognised  the  man  who  had  assaulted  him  at  the 
theatre ;  and  the  man,  to  show  that  he  also  recognised  Cervetto, 
made  a  motion,  as  well  as  his  pinioned  state  would  allow  him,  to 
indicate  that  he  recollected  him  as  "Nosey."  This  hardened  in- 
difference, or  rather  insult,  of  the  culprit,  to  one  who  had  treated  him 
so  kindly,  at  such  an  awful  moment,  had  such  an  effect  upon  Mr. 
Cervetto,  that  it  put  an  end  to  his  morning  exercise,  and  sent  him 
home  indisposed  for  the  day. 

A  ludicrous  occurrence  happened  one  night  at  Drury-lane  theatre, 
when  Mr.  Garrick  was  performing  "  Sir  John  Brute,"  in  that  scene 
where  the  knight  in  a  drunken  state  was  gradually  falling  asleep,  and 
uttering  incoherent  interjections.  Cervetto,  partly  affected  by  the 
excellence  of  the  acting,  and  partly  by  the  drowsy  influence  of  the 
sleeping  knight,  gave  a  loud  yawn,  which  excited  universal  laughter, 
and  wholly  destroyed  the  effect  of  the  scene.  When  the  play  was 
over,  Garrick  sent  for  Cervetto  while  he  was  undressing,  and,  with 
perfect  good-humour,  mildly  expostulated  with  him  for  having  inter- 
rupted what  he  considered  his  best  scene.  Cervetto  apologized  in 
the  best  manner  which  his  broken  English  would  allow,  assuring  the 
great  actor  that  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  prevent  yawning  when  he 
was  particularly  pleased, — which  his  son,  who  told  me  both  of  these 
anecdotes,  assured  me  was  always  the  case.  Mr.  Garrick  received 
this  apology  with  great  good-humour,  and  not  without  some  degree  of 
satisfaction. 

Another  time  a  respectable-looking  man  took  his  station  imme- 
diately behind  Cervetto,  and  while  he  was  performing  in  the  orchestra, 
whispered  "Nosey."  Cervetto  turned  and  merely  looked  at  him, 
without  expressing  any  anger.  In  a  few  minutes  the  same  person  re- 
peated "  Nosey."  Cervetto  then  turned  round,  and,  with  a  smile, 
said,  "  Sir,  you  seem  to  have  mistaken  your  place ;  you  should  be 
there,"  pointing  to  the  upper  gallery.  The  word  "  Nosey,"  as  I  have 
said,  is  still  called  out  in  the  upper  gallery,  though  the  persons  who 
bawl  it  know  nothing  of  its  origin,  and  it.  will  probably  be  continued  in 
such  places  with  "  God  save  the  King,"  "  Rule  Britannia,"  and  "  Roast 
Beef,"  &c.  &c. 

Cervetto,  the  son,  told  me  that  he  was  once  very  much  amused  on 
going  into  a  theatre  at  Nottingham  with  a  friend,  at  hearing  "  Nosey" 
vociferated  among  the  vulgar  part  of  the  audience  with  as  much  vehe- 
mence as  in  the  metropolis,  though  it  was  hardly  possible  that  they 
could  annex  any  meaning  to  the  word. — Touching  upon  the  theatre, 
I  may  venture  to  mention  a  green-room  anecdote.  Before  I  was 
permitted  to  visit  the  theatre  alone,  there  was  an  actor  of  some  merit, 
named  Palmer.  He  is  mentioned  in  Churchill's  "  Rosciad"  with  some 
civility  as  a  comic  actor.  He  married  the  daughter  of  the  celebrated 
Mrs.  Pritchard,  who  had  left  the  stage  long  before  my  time.  Being 
an  actor  of  repute  when  the  late  John  Palmer,  who  afterward  became 
deservedly  celebrated,  commenced  his  theatrical  career,  the  latter  was 


148 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


styled  on  the  playbills,  Mr.  /.  Palmer.  An  actor,  who  had  left  the 
green-room  after  a  rehearsal,  meeting  a  person  in  the  street,  was  asked 
if  any  thing  had  occurred  at  the  theatre — "  Yes,"  said  the  actor ;  "and 
what  you  will  deem  melancholy  news;  one  Palmer  is  dead,  and  another 
has  had  an  eye  knocked  out."  It  may  be  proper  to  add  that  the  initial 
M  I "  to  the  name  of  John  Palmer  had  been  immediately  omitted  in 
the  play-bills  on  the  death  of  his  namesake,  because  he  was  then  the 
only  Mr.  Palmer. 

Jervas,  the  painter.  This  artist,  the  friend  and  favourite  painter 
of  Pope,  who  received  instructions  from  him  at  a  time  when  the  poet 
was  intimate  with  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  (who  doubtless  would  have 
been  proud  of  such  a  pupil),  was  but  an  indifferent  artist,  and  totally 
unworthy  of  the  poet's  high  panegyrics  on  his  professional  skill.  Mr. 
Northcote,  who  was  a  domestic  pupil  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and 
lived  many  years  in  the  same  house,  told  me  that  one  day  after  dinner 
the  name  of  Jervas  was  mentioned,  when  Mr.  Northcote  expressed 
his  surprise  that  reading  the  high  encomiums  of  Pope,  he  had  never 
seen  a  picture  by  Jervas.  Miss  Reynolds,  the  sister  of  Sir  Joshua, 
and  a  good  artist  herself,  to  whom  the  observation  was  addressed, 
concurred  in  the  same  surprise,  never  having  seen  one.  She  then 
addressed  Sir  Joshua,  who  was  deaf,  and  raising  her  voice,  asked  him 
what  was  the  reason  that  no  pictures  of  Jervas  were  to  be  seen. 
"  Because,"  said  Sir  Joshua,  "  they  are  all  in  the  garrets."  It  is  cer- 
tain that  Pope,  though  very  fond  of  painting,  had  little  knowledge  of 
the  art,  and  praised  Jervas  with  the  zeal  of  a  friend  rather  than  with 
the  judgment  of  a  critic.  It  would  now  probably  be  impossible  to 
find  a  picture  of  the  painter  whose  name  the  poet  has  immortalized. 
It  is  somewhat  strange  that  Mr.  Northcote  had  never  heard  of  How- 
ard, a  painter,  immortalized  by  Prior,  the  poet. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Ozias  Humphrey,  R.  A.  I  was  very  intimate  with  this  artist  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life.  He  was  an  admirable  miniature  painter, 
and  he  and  Mr.  Cosway  at  one  time  divided  the  patronage  of  the 
public  in  that  province  of  art.  Humphrey,  however,  was  more  ambi- 
tious than  his  rival,  and  soared  into  competition  with  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds. For  this  purpose  he  went  to  Italy  to  study  the  works  of  the 
great  masters  in  that  emporium  of  genius  and  taste.  On  his  return  to 
this  country,  he  discovered  that  the  ground  was  occupied  by  men  of 
talents  who  had  during  his  absence  started  forward,  and  that  the  fame 
of  Reynolds  had  too  widely  spread,  and  was  too  deeply  rooted,  to  admit 
of  successful  rivalry.  He  was  too  proud  to  return  to  the  sphere  of 
miniature ;  and  in  that  province  of  art  also  many  men  of  genius  had 
arisen.    While  Cosway  was  triumphant  in  the  patronage  of  the  fash- 


OZIAS  HUMPHREY,  ESQ. 


149 


ionable  world,  Humphrey  had  in  some  degree  been  forgotten  during 
his  absence,  and  therefore  thought  the  wisest  course  he  could  adopt 
was  to  go  to  India  ;  and  as  he  was  well  connected,  he  readily  obtained 
permission  from  the  East  India  Company.  His  talents  soon  made 
him  known,  and  he  was  generally  patronised,  but  being  too  eager  to 
obtain  a  fortune  and  return  to  this  country,  he  was  much  too  high  in 
his  charges,  and  as  there  were  other  artists  at  Calcutta,  his  business 
declined.  The  nabobs  of  Oude  and  of  Arcot  were  deeply  indebted 
to  him,  but  not  being  sufficiently  employed,  he  left  India,  and  his 
claims  upon  those  oriental  potentates  remained  unsettled.  His  agents, 
with  great  assiduity,  ultimately  obtained  some  portion,  though  but  a 
small  one,  of  the  Indian  debts. 

On  his  return  to  London,  finding  all  other  provinces  of  art  fully  oc- 
cupied, he  turned  his  attention  to  crayon  painting,  and  produced  some 
beautiful  works.  But  here  again  his  business  declined,  when  he  found 
it  expedient  to  quit  his  expensive  apartments  in  Bond-street,  and  to 
take  lodgings  at  Knightsbridge.  He  was  then  attacked  by  a  disorder 
in  his  eyes,  but,  instead  of  resorting  to  an  eminent  practitioner,  he  put 
himself  under  the  care  of  an  old  woman,  who  had  obtained  some  repu- 
tation among  ignorant  and  credulous  people,  and  under  her  manage- 
ment his  sight  gradually  declined,  until  he  was  at  length  obliged  to 
abandon  his  profession. 

What  property  he  had  acquired  was  not  known,  but  it  was  sup- 
posed to  be  very  scanty ;  yet  he  used  to  invite  his  friends  to  dine  with 
him,  and  often  promised,  if  I  would  come,  that  he  would  give  me  "a 
beefsteak  and  a  mackerel."  I,  however,  never  profited  by  his  hospi- 
tality, though  his  conversation  would  have  been  the  best  part  of  the 
feast.  Being  in  the  habit  of  promising  his  friends  "  a  beefsteak  and  a 
mackerel,"  when  mackerel  had  been  long  out  of  season,  a  waggish 
friend  advised  him  to  change  the  fish.  He,  however,  dropped  the  fish 
altogether,  and  confined  himself  to  the  steak.  He  was  invited  so  much 
abroad  that  it  is  probable  he  had  seldom,  if  ever,  an  opportunity  of 
entertaining  a  friend  at  his  own  table. 

On  his  return  from  India  he  was  very  anxious  to  become  a  royal 
academician ;  and,  as  many  of  the  members  of  this  admirable  institu- 
tion were  his  friends,  he  easily  obtained  that  honour.  We  had  dined 
together  at  Mr.  Opie's,  in  Berners-street.  Opie,  in  the  evening,  went 
to  vote  for  him  at  the  Royal  Academy,  and  during  his  absence  Hum- 
phrey was  in  great  anxiety  for  the  result ;  and  when  Opie  returned 
with  the  news  of  his  success,  he  rubbed  his  hands  with  ecstasy,  as  if  he 
had  obtained  a  great  acquisition  of  wealth. 

Though  intelligent  and  well  acquainted  with  the  world,  he  was  a 
little  too  fond  of  interlarding  his  conversation  with  accounts  of  his 
connexion  with  nobility,  and  seemed  to  think  nothing  worth  recording 
that  was  of  plebeian  origin.  He  was  also  lofty  in  his  description  of 
his  state  in  India,  and  used  to  say,  that  when  he  was  at  leisure  he 
called  for  his  elephant  and  took  a  morning  ride.  Opie,  who  possessed 
great  humour,  and  was  fond  of  alliteration,  in  imitation  of  Humphrey's 
manner,  used  to  say,  that  if  he  went  to  India  he  should  ring  for  his 


150 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


rhinoceros,  trot  with  his  riger,  />rance  on  his  panther,  canter  with  his 
darnel,  or  dash  off'  on  his  r/romedary. 

Humphrey  was  fond  of  raillery,  and  if  I  may  provoke  my  reader 
with  a  pun,  1  will  mention  that  one  day,  when  a  little  sportive  contest 
took  place  between  him  and  me,  he  said,  "  Taylor,  you  are  an  every- 
day man" — "  Very  well,"  said  I,  "  and  you  are  a  weak  one."  I  must 
not  insult  my  reader  by  suggesting  the  proper  orthography  of  my  pun, 
but  trifling  as  it  was,  it  excited  a  laugh,  and  put  an  end  to  the  facetious 
hostility  of  my  friendly  opponent. 

On  the  death  of  Humphrey,  I  received  a  visit  from  his  nephew  to 
announce  the  melancholy  intelligence.  He  told  me  that  his  uncle 
had  retained  his  mental  faculties  to  the  last,  and  was  fully  aware  that 
his  death  was  approaching.  A  few  moments  before  he  died  he  said 
to  his  nephew,  "  As  soon  as  I  am  dead,  go  to  Jack  Taylor,  at  the  Sun 
office  in  the  Strand,  and  he  will  not  let  me  drop  into  the  grave  without 
saying  something  kind  of  my  memory."  I  complied  with  his  wish, 
and  inserted  a  tribute  of  respect  for  his  character  in  "The  Sun"  news- 
paper, which  seemed  to  be  satisfactory  to  his  relatives.  Humphrey 
was  generous  when  in  prosperous  circumstances,  and  gave  Spicer, 
an  enamel  painter,  fifty  guineas  for  an  enamel  copy  of  his  own  por- 
trait of  the  Duke  of  Richmond. 

Mr.  Caleb  Whitefoord.  I  am  induced  to  mention  this  gentle- 
man at  present,  because  a  similar  circumstance  attended  his  departure 
from  this  world.  Mr.  Whitefoord  was  a  gentleman  distinguished  for 
his  wit,  learning,  and  taste  in  the  fine  arts.  I  never  knew  a  person 
more  ready  at  a  repartee.  He  was  in  partnership  with  Mr.  Brown, 
a  wine-merchant,  but  being  of  a  good  family,  he  left  the  management 
of  the  concern  almost  wholly  to  Brown,  and,  like  Congreve,  who, 
when  visited  by  Voltaire,  wished  not  to  be  considered  an  author  but  a 
private  gentleman,  so  Mr.  Whitefoord  wished  to  be  regarded  not  as 
connected  with  the  wine-trade,  but  as  a  gentleman  and  a  diplomatist, 
having  been  attached  to  Lord  St.  Helen's  when  he  went  to  adjust  the 
preliminaries  of  peace  with  the  French  government. 

Mr.  Whitefoord  had  a  literary  turn,  which  he  frequently  indulged 
in  "  The  Public  Advertiser,"  the  most  popular  and  respectable  diurnal 
newspaper  of  the  time.  He  was  the  author  of  "  cross-readings," 
which  consisted  not  of  reading  down  each  column,  but  across  the 
whole  columns  of  each  side  of  a  newspaper,  and  which  mode  brought 
forth  many  whimsical  and  facetious  juxtapositions.  He  also  wrote  a 
sportive  essay,  entitled  "  Errors  of  the  Press,"  and  a  series  of  lively 
political  articles  in  "The  Public  Advertiser,"  entitled  "  Ship  News." 
He  is  mentioned  in  a  very  favourable  manner  by  Goldsmith  in  his 
poem  of  "  Retaliation,"  not  without  a  suspicion  that  he  wrote  the 
lines  himself  after  the  death  of  the  poet,  and  induced  the  printer  to 
introduce  them  in  a  second  edition  of  the  poem  as  Goldsmith's  pro- 
duction. But  as  he  really  deserved  the  character  given  of  him,  and 
was  not  of  an  artful  turn  of  mind,  I  presume  to  think  that  they  were 
a  genuine  tribute  of  Goldsmith  to  the  merit  of  his  friend. 

Mr.  Whitefoord  claimed  the  letter  signed  "  Junia"  in  "  The  Public 


MR.  CALEB  WHITEFOORD  AND  COLLEY  CIBBER. 


151 


Advertiser/'  which  was  answered  by  "  Junius"  himself,  with  such  in- 
delicate allusions.,  that  he  repented  having  written  it,  and  desired  Mr. 
Woodfall  to  disown  it  as  the  real  production  of  that  great  political 
writer. 

Mr.  Whitefoord's  partner  had  partly  rebuilt  their  house  of  business 
in  the  Adelphi,  which  was  so  situated  as  to  afford  no  sight  of  the 
Thames,  and  had  placed  a  balcony  in  front.  He  asked  Mr.  White- 
foord  what  he  thought  of  the  house.  "  Why.  it  is  a  very  good  one," 
said  he,  "  and  your  balcony  is  the  most  disinterested  one  1  ever  saw." 
—"Why  do  you  call  it  disinterested?"  said  Brown.  "Why?"  re- 
joined Whitefoord,  "  because  you  can  have  no  view  in  it." 

Mr.  W'hitefoord  used  to  tell  many  whimsical  anecdotes,  among 
which  was  the  following.  George  Bodens,  a  well-known  character 
of  the  time,  was  enormously  bulky,  and  on  leaving  one  of  the  clubs 
in  St.  James's-street,  he  had  called  a  sedan-chair,  and  just  as  he  was 
entering  it,  a  nobleman  who  was  getting  into  his  carriage,  seeing  him, 
called  to  him,  and  said  he  would  give  him  a  cast  home.  Bodens  then 
left  the  chair,  and  gave  the  chairman  a  shilling.  "  What !  no  more, 
your  honour  ?"  said  the  chairman.  "  Why,"  said  Bodens,  "  I  did  not 
enter  your  chair."  "  Ah  !  but  consider  the  fright,  please  your  honour," 
rejoined  the  man  ;  and  Bodens,  though  poor  himself,  gave  him  another 
shilling  for  his  humour. 

Mr.  Whitefoord,  being  a  wit  himself,  naturally  became  acquainted 
with  the  chief  wits  of  his  time,  and  with  many  much  older  than 
himself.  He  told  me  stories  of  Colley  Cibber,  Quin,  and  other 
celebrated  characters,  which,  never  thinking  I  should  have  occasion 
to  record  them,  have  escaped  my  memory.  I  remember  his  telling 
me  that  Colley  was  particularly  severe  upon  the  actors  who  came 
forward  after  he  left  the  stage,  and  especially  on  Garrick ;  and  Mr. 
Whitefoord  added,  it  appeared  to  him  that  Colley  Cibber's  high  pane- 
gyrics on  actors  of  his  own  time  were  not  without  a  view  to  degrade 
those  of  the  succeeding  period.  This  allusion,  however,  could  not 
apply  to  Garrick,  as  Cibber's  Apology  was  published  in  1739,  and 
Garrick  did  not  appear  in  London  till  two  years  after. 

Mr.  Whitefoord  once  asked  him,  as  he  had  been  a  prolific  dramatic 
writer,  if  he  had  not  some  manuscript  plays  by  him  that  were  deserv- 
ing of  public  notice.  "  To  be  sure  I  have,"  said  he,  "  but  who  are 
now  alive  to  act  them  ?" 

Now  I  am  upon  Colley  Cibber,  I  may  as  well  pause  upon  Mr. 
"Whitefoord,  and  tell  all  I  have  heard  of  Cibber.  The  late  Mr.  Arthur 
Murphy,  speaking  of  Colley,  told  me  that  he  once  dined  with  him  at 
Mrs.  Woffington's,  when  he  spoke  with  great  contempt  of  Garrick ; 
and  she  having  said,  "  Come  now,  Colley,  you  must  acknowledge  he 
is  a  very  clever  young  man  his  answer  was,  "  He  is  very  well  in 
Fribble  ;"  and  on  further  urging  him,  he  said,  "  he  does  not  play  Bayes 
so  well  as  my  son."  But  at  last,  when  Murphy  joined  with  the  lady  in 
high  eulogiums  on  Garrick,  comparing  his  animated  representations  of 
life,  and  diversities  of  character,  with  the  stately  pomposity  of  Quin,  he 
was  induced  to  admit  that  Garrick  was  an  extraordinary  young  man. 


152 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


In  the  course  of  the  evening,  Cibber  was  earnestly  entreated  to* 
repeat  some  passage  from  any  character  he  had  performed  ;  and  after 
much  importunity,  he  said,  "  Well,  you  jade,  if  you  will  assist  my 
memory,  I  will  give  you  the  first  speech  of  Sir  John  Brute.''  He  then 
delivered  the  speech  with  little  assistance  from  the  lady,  in  the  most 
masterly  manner,  as  Mr.  Murphy  assured  me;  and  when  he  had 
praised  the  good  qualities  of  Lady  Brute,  closing  with  "  But  here  she 
comes,"  his  expression  of  disgust  was  more  strikingly  characteristic  of 
a  surfeited  husband  than  any  thing  of  a  similar  nature  he  had  ever 
witnessed  on  the  stage. 

Mr.  Murphy  told  me  also,  that  he  was  once  present  at  Tom's 
Coffee-house,  in  Russell-street,  Covent  Garden,  which  was  only  open 
to  subscribers,  when  Colley  was  engaged  at  whist,  and  an  old  general 
was  his  partner.  As  the  cards  were  dealt  to  him,  he  took  up  every- 
one in  turn,  and  expressed  his  disappointment  at  every  indifferent  one. 
In  the  progress  of  the  game  he  did  not  follow  suit,  and  his  partner 
said,  "  What !  have  you  not  a  spade,  Mr.  Cibber?"  The  latter,  look- 
ing at  his  cards,  answered,  "  Oh,  yes,  a  thousand  ;"  which  drew  a  very 
peevish  comment  from  the  general.    On  which  Cibber,  who  was 

shockingly  addicted  to  swearing,  replied,  "  Don't  be  angry,  for  

I  can  play  ten  times  worse  if  1  like." 

By  all  accounts,  Cibber  had  more  inexhaustible  gayety  in  his  mind 
and  manner  than  his  contemporaries  had  known  of  any  other  charac- 
ter. This  peculiar  turn  of  mind  is  evident  in  his  dedication  to  his 
"  Apology,"  in  the  work  itself,  and  in  his  letters  inserted  in  the  "  Cor- 
respondence of  Richardson,  the  author  of  '  Clarissa/  *  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,'  &c."  The  name  of  the  person  to  whom  the  dedication 
to  the  "  Apology"  was  addressed  is  not  mentioned,  but  the  late  Mr. 
John  Kemble  assured  me  that  he  had  authority  for  saying  it  was  Mr. 
Pelham,  brother  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle. 

Colley  Cibber  lived  in  Berkeley-square,  at  the  north  corner  of 
Bruton-street,  where  my  mother  told  me  she  saw  him  once  standing 
at  the  parlour  window,  drumming  with  his  hands  on  the  frame.  She 
said  that  he  appeared  like  a  calm,  grave,  and  reverend  old  gentleman. 
With  all  our  admiration  of  the  poetical  and  moral  character  of  Pope, 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  absurdly  as  well  as  cruelly  perse- 
cuted Cibber ;  but  the  latter  well  revenged  himself  in  two  well-known 
letters  published  against  "  the  wicked  wasp  of  Twickenham,"  as  Pope 
was  styled  at  the  time ;  and  the  younger  Richardson,  who  was  pre- 
sent when  Pope  was  reading  one  of  them,  has  recorded  their  effects 
on  the  irritable  temper  of  the  bard. 

I  have  too  long  forgotten  my  friend  Mr.  Whitefoord,  of  whom, 
however,  I  have  little  more  to  say.  He  called  on  me  one  morning, 
apparently  full  of  some  interesting  information,  while  I  was  proprietor 
and  conductor  of  "  The  Sun,"  and  desiring  me  to  take  up  my  pen, 
bade  ma  write  as  follows : — "  Birth.  On  the  —  inst.  the  lady  of 
Caleb  Whitefoord,  Esq.,  at  his  house  in  Argyle-street,  of  twins;"  and 
he  uttered  the  last  word  with  such  a  triumphant  shout  as  might  almost 
have  been  heard  in  the  street.    He  had  a  good  collection  of  pictures,. 


SIR.  CALEB  WHITEFOORD— MRS.  CORNELYS. 


153 


and  was  a  judicious  critic.  He  presented  me  with  a  small  picture 
of  David  and  Bathsheba,  of  no  great  merit,  but  which  he  ascribed  to 
Luca  Jordano.  He  was  much  respected  for  probity,  as  well  as  for 
his  wit  and  scholarship.  He  was  taken  ill  of  a  fever,  which  alarmed 
his  family,  and  it  was  thought  proper  to  send  for  his  solicitor,  Mr. 
James  Seaton,  one  of  his  old  friends,  and  that  gentleman  called  on 
me  to  say  that  Mr.  Whitefoord  desired  to  see  me.  He  was  in  bed, 
and  manifested  his  usual  good-humour  when  I  entered  his  room. 

Mr.  Seaton  met  me  by  appointment  soon  after,  and  that  gentleman 
in  the  most  delicate  manner  hinted  to  him  in  my  presence  that,  as 
there  was  at  his  time  of  life  some  danger  that  his  illness  might  not 
have  a  favourable  termination,  it  would  be  proper  for  him  to  make  a 
will  for  the  security  of  his  wife  and  family.    He  did  not  seem  alarmed, 
but  said  il  With  all  my  heart."    Mr.  Seaton  was  then  provided  with  a 
paper  for  instructions,  and  Mr.  Whitefoord  remained  silent.  Mr. 
Seaton  then  asked  what  property  he  thought  he  possessed.  Mr. 
Whitefoord  still  remained  silent.    At  length  Mr.  Seaton  said,  11  Shall 
I  say  20,000Z.  V *  and  his  answer  was,  "  I  hope  so."    The  will  was 
then  arranged,  and  two  or  three  persons  were  proposed  to  Mr.  White- 
foord as  executcrs,  but  he  gave  satisfactory  reasons  for  rejecting  them, 
and  proved  that  his  faculties  were  by  no  means  impaired.    At  last 
Mr.  George  Nicol,  the  eminent  bookseller  of  Pall  Mall,  another 
friend,  a  respectable  dealer  in  pictures,  and  myself,  were  appointed 
executors.    Mr.  Nicol,  who  was  a  man  of  business,  and  universally 
esteemed  for  kindness  and  probity,  took  the  whole  burden  upon  him- 
self, and  discharged  the  duties  of  his  trust  with  great  zeal,  assiduity, 
and  friendship,  calling  on  his  coadjutors  only  when  it  was  necessary 
to  apply  their  signature  to  official  documents.    Mr.  Whitefoord  died, 
as  far  as  I  recollect,  the  following  day,  and  I  attended  his  funeral  in 
Paddington  church.    He  was  much  regretted  by  his  friends  for  the 
kindness  of  his  disposition,  his  humanity,  knowledge,  and  facetious 
fertility.    He  was  an  excellent  judge  of  acting,  and  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Garrick.    His  pictures  were  numerous  and  well  selected, 
and  among  them  were  many  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.    He  was  very 
fond  of  music,  with  which  he  was  reputed  to  be  scientifically  conver- 
sant, and  was  in  all  respects  a  man  of  taste  and  worth. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Mrs.  Cornelys.  My  family,  in  my  boyhood,  were  well  acquainted 
with  this  extraordinary  woman,  who  once  made  a  distinguished  figure 
in  the  regions  of  fashion.  Her  mansion  in  Soho-square,  which  she 
styled  Carlisle  House,  was  admirably  arranged  for  concerts,  balls, 
masquerades,  &c,  and  was  peculiarly  appropriate  for  the  assemblage 
of  the  higher  order  of  visiters.    Her  house  was  patronised  by  some  of 


154 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


the  chief  nobility  for  many  years,  till  the  appearance  of  the  Pantheon, 
in  Oxford  street,  a  structure  of  the  most  beautiful  and  elegant  descrip- 
tion, the  architectural  triumph  of  the  late  Mr.  James  Wyat. 

The  magnificent  edifice  of  the  Pantheon,  supported  by  patrons  of 
the  higher  order,  gave  a  fatal  blow  to  Carlisle  House,  the  attraction 
of  which  gradually  declined,  till  Mrs.  Cornelys  was  at  last  obliged  to 
relinquish  her  establishment,  and  sunk  by  degrees,  till  she  ultimately 
became  an  inhabitant  of  the  Fleet  prison  for  debt,  and  I  believe  re- 
mained there  some  years.  Before  she  came  to  England,  she  had 
been  a  public  singer  in  Germany,  of  which  she  was  a  native.  She 
brought  to  this  country  a  son  and  daughter,  to  whom  she  gave  a  good 
education.  The  son,  who  was  a  very  amiable  and  accomplished 
young  man,  after  his  mother's  fall,  assumed  the  name  of  Altorf,  and 
for  some  years  was  the  tutor  of  the  late  Earl  of  Pomfret,  who  has 
several  times  told  me  that  he  held  him  in  esteem  for  his  talents,  at- 
tainments, and  moral  character.  He  went  abroad  after  he  left  Lord 
Pomfret,  and  I  never  heard  what  became  of  him  ;  but  from  what  I 
knew  of  him,  I  doubt  not  that  his  talents  and  character  enabled  him 
to  support  himself  respectably. 

His  sister  was  of  a  different  description,  and  is  less  entitled  to  a 
respectful  notice  in  this  work.  She  was  the  only  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Cornelys,  and  he  was  the  only  son.  What  were  their  ages  when 
their  mother  first  brought  them  to  this  country,  I  know  not.  She 
must  have  arrived  in  my  infancy,  as  she  kept  a  carriage  and  a  coun- 
try-house at  Hammersmith  long  before  our  family  were  acquainted 
with  her.  I  never  heard  where  the  son  was  educated,  but  probably 
in  his  earlier  years  abroad,  as  he  retained  a  foreign  accent,  though  in 
full  possession  of  the  English  language. 

The  daughter  was  placed  in  a  Roman  Catholic  seminary  at  Ham- 
mersmith, generally  known  by  the  name  of  "  The  Nunnery,"  which  it 
still  bears.  Sophy  Cornelys  was  brought  from  that  place  when  she 
was  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  resided  with  her  mother  either  at 
Carlisle  House,  or  at  her  seat  at  Hammersmith.  She  had  cultivated 
her  musical  talents  with  success,  and  performed  very  well  upon  the 
piano-forte,  the  harp,  and  the  common  guitar.  She  had  a  fine  voice, 
and  sang  with  great  taste  and  expression.  After  her  mother's  fall, 
she  began  to  think  the  connexion  not  very  creditable  to  her;  and 
when  she  once  visited  her  mother  in  the  Fleet,  told  her  that  she  was 
sure  she  was  not  her  daughter,  but  of  noble  origin  in  Germany,  and 
desired  to  know  who  really  were  her  parents.  It  was  in  vain  that 
the  mother,  depressed  with  misfortune,  and  shocked  at  such  an 
unnatural  application,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  assured  her  that  her 
suspicion  was  wholly  unfounded.  Sophy  resolved  to  believe  the 
contrary,  and,  I  fear,  deserted  her  unhappy  parent.  Finding  it  expe- 
dient to  give  herself  a  noble  extraction,  she  reported  that  she  was  a 
natural  daughter  of  Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine  by  a  lady  of  quality, 
and  was  base  enough  to  insinuate  that  Mrs.  Cornelys  wanted  to  sacri- 
fice her  to  Lord  Pigot,  who  lived  in  Soho-square,  and  was  a  patron 
of  her  mother ;  though  the  mother,  knowing  that  Lord  Pigot  was  a 


MISS  CORNELYS. 


155 


man  of  gallantry,  actually  sent  her  daughter  to  a  convent  abroad,  that 
she  might  be  out  of  the  way  of  temptation.  It  is  proper  to  add,  that 
I  have  no  reason  to  believe  she  ever,  to  use  the  words  of  Pope, 
"  broke  Diana's  law." 

For  some  time  the  present  Mr.  Charles  Butler,  well  known  for  his 
legal  knowledge,  his  attachment  to  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  his 
literary  talents,  and  the  benevolence  of  his  disposition,  allowed  her  a 
provision,  which  enabled  her  to  take  apartments  near  Bedford-row, 
Bloomsbury.  He  had  known  her  in  her  prosperity,  was  fond  of 
music,  and  admired  her  talents.  I  remember  to  have  heard  her  sing 
an  air,  the  words  and  music  of  which  were  composed  by  that  gentle- 
man, of  which  I  reminded  him  many  years  afterward,  when  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  him  at  the  late  Dr.  Kitchener's. 

During  many  months,  while  Sophy  Cornelys  was  endeavouring  to 
procure  a  situation  as  teacher  to  young  ladies  in  a  private  family,  for 
which  she  was  well  qualified  by  her  musical  talents,  and  her  know- 
ledge of  the  French  and  Italian  languages,  it  was  her  custom  to  come 
after  breakfast  to  our  house  in  Hatton  Garden,  where  she  continued 
the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  I  always  escorted  her  home  at  night. 
She  was  a  very  agreeable  companion,  and  by  her  talents  well  re- 
warded my  parents  and  the  family  for  the  humble  protection  which 
she  received.  At  length  Lady  Harrington,  the  mother  of  the  late 
earl,  took  her  into  her  mansion  at  the  Stable  Yard,  St.  James's,  and 
treated  her  with  great  kindness.  She  afterward  resided  with  her 
former  pupil,  the  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  when  her  grace  was  Lady 
Anna  Maria  Stanhope,  one  of  the  beautiful  daughters  of  Lady  Har- 
rington. 

I  was  once  introduced  to  the  late  Lord  Harrington  by  his  lively 
and  good-humoured  son,  then  Lord  Petersham.  I  mentioned  Miss 
Cornelys  to  Lord  Harrington,  who  was  glad  to  be  reminded  of  one 
of  the  companions  of  his  youth,  and  desirous  of  knowing  what  had 
become  of  her.  Old  Lady  Harrington  was  very  fond  of  music,  and 
styled  Miss  Cornelys'  voice  a  "  moonlight  voice,"  which,  strange  as 
the  epithet  may  appear,  was  not  inappropriate,  as  it  had  a  soft,  calm, 
plaintive  sound,  which,  like  the  "  sweet  echo"  of  the  lady  in  Comus, 
was  more  suited  to  the  stillness  of  night  than  "  to  the  garish  eye  of 
day." 

The  next  remove  of  Miss  Cornelys  was  to  the  protection  of  old 
Lady  Spencer,  who  left  her  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  at  her  death. 
She  had  resided  with  the  Duchess  of  Newcastle  in  Lincolnshire,  and 
with  Lady  Spencer  at  Richmond.  On  the  death  of  the  latter,  she 
returned  to  town,  and  renewed  her  acquaintance  with  some  of  her 
earlier  friends,  but  being  introduced  to  the  present  Princess  Augusta, 
she  gradually  dropped  all  intercourse  with  her  old  connexions,  and 
even  denied  that  she  ever  knew  them.  I  forgot  to  mention  in  the 
proper  place,  that  on  the  fall  of  her  mother,  she  was  anxious  not  to 
be  known  as  Miss  Cornelys ;  and  one  night  when  a  knock  was  heard 
at  our  street-door,  to  quiet  her  fears  lest  a  stranger  should  hear  her 
name,  she  begged  that  1  would  go  to  the  door  myself  and  prevent 


156 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


intrusion.  The  person  who  knocked  happened  to  be  an  inquisitive 
little  friend,  who  was  too  intimate  with  the  family  to  be  excluded ; 
and  asking  who  was  in  the  parlour,  a  common  name  occurred  to  me, 
and  I  told  him  a  Miss  Williams.  From  that  time  she  adopted  this 
name,  and  retained  it  amid  all  her  vicissitudes  till  her  death. 

She  was  totally  void  of  sensibility,  but  affected  great  feeling.  She 
was  kindly  harboured  some  time  by  Mrs.  Mayor,  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Mayor,  formerly  member  of  parliament  for  Abingdon,  who  was  an 
accomplished  lady,  and  at  whose  house  I  was  a  frequent  visiter.  One 
evening  when  JMiss  Williams  was  present,  a  story  of  a  recent  domestic 
calamity  was  related,  which  drew  tears  from  all  the  company,  while 
Miss  Williams  forgot  herself  so  much  as  to  continue  her  needlework 
with  apparent  indifference.  Mrs.  Mayor,  observing- her  so  unmoved, 
could  not  help  expressing  her  surprise  that  she  should  hear  so  lament- 
able a  story,  which  had  so  deeply  affected  all  the  company,  without 
emotion.  Miss  Williams,  who  then  thought  it  time  to  "  assume  a 
virtue  if  she  had  it  not,"  twisted  the  hair  upon  her  forehead,  looked 
wildly,  exclaimed, "  Oil !  it  is  too  much,"  and  rushed  hastily  out  of  the 
room  to  give  vent  to  the  violence  of  her  sympathy. 

At  length  she  withdrew  from  all  intercourse  with  those  who  were 
likely  to  have  known  her  in  early  days,  and,  obtaining  the  patronage 
of  the  present  Princess  Augusta,  was  employed  by  that  amiable  branch 
of  the  royal  family  in  the  distribution  of  her  charities,  to  whom,  no 
doubt,  she  submitted  cases  of  calamity  that  never  existed,  and  allotted 
the  bounties  to  herself.  She  was  so  artful,  so  suspicious,  and  so  un- 
forgiving, that  a  lady  who  w7as  also  patronised  by  the  same  princess 
for  her  talents  as  an  artist,  and  who  had  painted  a  portrait  of  her 
royal  highness,  assured  me  she  wTas  obliged  to  pay  the  most  cautious 
homage  to  Miss  Williams,  lest  she  should  deprive  her  of  the  royal 
patronage. 

It  may  be  thought  that  I  am  too  harsh  in  describing  one  of  my 
early  connexions  ;  but  I  feel  it  to  be  a  moral  duty  not  to  suffer  arti- 
fice, hypocrisy,  and  ingratitude  to  put  themselves  forward  as  virtuous 
qualities.  Besides,  Miss  Williams  was  many  years  older  than  I  was 
at  the  time,  and  I  knew  too  little  of  the  world  to  be  able  to  pierce 
through  the  veil  of  practised  subtlety  and  dissimulation  which  she 
assumed.  Far  from  regretting  that  I  have  thus  unmasked  an  artful 
hypocrite,  who  has  not  left  any  relations  to  lament  her  death,  I  con- 
ceive it  but  just  that  I  should  undeceive  those  w7hom  her  cunning 
might  have  ensnared  into  friendship,  and  hold  out  a  warning  to  amia- 
ble credulity. 

The  fate  of  her  mother  may  excite  curiosity,  and  is  not  unworthy 
of  notice.  She  was  many  years  in  the  Fleet  prison  after  her  fall. 
The  friends  of  her  prosperity,  as  might  be  supposed,  nay,  indeed,  ex- 
pected by  those  who  know  the  world,  entirely  deserted  her,  and 
perhaps  she  was  never  visited  by  her  .daughter,  except  upon  the  im- 
pudent pretence  of  inquiring  who  were  her  noble  or  princely  parents. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  her  son,  if  then  living,  was  the  means  of 
procuring  her  liberty  and  affording  her  subsistence.    After  many 


MISS  CORNELYS. 


157 


years,  when  my  late  excellent  friend  Mr.  Edward  Jerningham,  gen- 
erally styled  the  poet,  was  taking  me  in  a  carriage  to  dine  with  a 
mutual  friend  at  Hammersmith,  we  stopped  at  a  house  in  Knights- 
bridge,  where  we  alighted,  and  he  introduced  me  to  an  old  lady, 
whom  I  immediately  recognised  as  Mrs.  Cornelys.  And  what,  gentle 
reader,  do  you  suppose  was  then  the  calling  of  this  lady,  who  had 
formerly  been  styled  "the  empress  of  the  regions  of  elegance  and 
fashion  V    That  of  purveyor  of  asses'  milk. 

She  had  a  large  brood  of  the  long-eared  sisterhood  in  her  service, 
and  despatched  them  daily  to  several  parts  of  the  town.  She  was 
not,  however,  though  far  advanced  in  years,  and  as  might  be  supposed, 
subdued  by  adversity,  without  a  hope  that  she  should  possibly  regain 
her  influence  in  the  fashionable  world ;  for  she  aspired  to  the  honour 
of  having  a  public  breakfast,  under  the  patronage  of  his  late  majesty, 
then  Prince  of  Wales,  at  her  humble  dwelling,  which  might  be  aptly 
styled  Asinine  Hall.  She  seemed  delighted  at  the  idea  of  being  re- 
introduced to  any  part  of  a  family  who  had  known  her  in  better  times. 
She  then  took  us  into  the  room  intended  for  the  morning  fete  that 
was  to  take  place  under  royal  patronage.  It  exhibited  a  melancholy 
proof  of  the  total  loss  of  that  taste  which  had  produced  such  a  variety 
of  elegant  arrangements  at  Carlisle  House ;  and  consisted  of  a  small 
room  ornamented  on  all  sides,  as  well  as  on  the  ceiling,  with  bits  of 
variously  coloured  looking-glass. 

As  Mr.  Jerningham,  who  was  intimately  connected  with  people  of 
the  highest  rank,  and  had  visited  Carlisle  House  in  the  meridian  of 
its  splendour,  and  as  I,  when  a  boy,  had  been  permitted  to  see  it  in 
that  state,  the  change  in  her  situation  absolutely  depressed  our  spirits, 
and  our  gloom  was  not  dissipated  till  we  partook  of  the  hospitality  of 
the  friend  whom  we  were  going  to  visit. 

Before  we  left  her,  however,  Mr.  Jerningham,  with  his  usual  kind- 
ness, had  mentioned  me  to  the  lady  as  possessed  of  literary  talents ; 
which  induced  her  to  request  that  I  would  write  an  address  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  soliciting  his  royal  highness  to  patronise  her  fete. 
I  complied  with  her  request,  and  wrote  two  for  the  occasion.  It  will 
hardly  be  believed  that  a  young  man  then  attended  her  daily  in  the 
capacity  of  her  secretary,  who  was  to  copy  the  address,  and  present 
it  in  person  to  the  expected  royal  patron.  The  princely  repast  of 
course  never  took  place ;  the  brood  of  long-eared  nurses  fell  into 
other  hands,  and  I  never  knew  what  became  of  this  unfortunate  vic- 
tim of  fashionable  caprice  and  filial  ingratitude. 

1  may  here  properly  introduce  a  story  which  I  heard  from  good 
authority.  The  proprietor  of  the  house  at  Knightsbridge,  where  Mrs. 
Cornelys  presided  over  the  milky  way,  went  abroad  as  secretary  to  the 
governor  of  one  of  our  West  India  islands,  and  took  with  him  his  wife 
and  an  infant  daughter  in  arms.  They  stopped  on  their  way  at  some 
Roman  Catholic  settlement,  and  the  lady  was  taken  to  a  nunnery  to 
drink  tea.  She  took  her  child  with  her,  and  the  abbess  was  so  pleased 
with  it  that  she  requested  to  have  it  taken  to  the  nuns,  that  they 
might  see  so  beautiful  an  infant.   During  the  time  that  the  child  was 

H 


158 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


absent,  the  abbess  endeavoured  to  persuade  the  mother  to  let  it  re- 
main in  the  convent,  where  it  should  be  well  provided  for  through  life. 
The  mother,  however,  of  course  declined  the  proposal,  and  being 
alarmed,  importunately  demanded  her  child.  The  abbess  and  the 
nuns  refused  to  bring  it  back,  and  forced  the  mother  out  of  the  place. 
The  mother  then  applied  to  the  governor  of  the  settlement,  and  ob- 
tained from  him  an  order  to  restore  her  child.  The  child,  which  was 
beautiful  and  healthy  when  it  entered  the  convent,  was  restored  to 
her,  but  so  altered  and  languid  that  she  scarcely  knew  it,  and  it  died 
before  the  morning.  Hence  it  was  inferred  that  the  abbess  and  the 
sisterhood  deemed  it  more  meritorious  to  murder  the  infant  than  suffer 
it  to  be  brought  up  a  heretic. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Haydn.  The  first  time  that  I  saw  this  celebrated  composer  was 
at  Madame  Mara's,  in  what  is  now  called  Foley  Place,  Marylebone. 
I  had  dined  there  in  company  with  my  late  friends,  Dr.  Wolcot  and 
Mr.  Crosdill,  the  most  eminent  performer  on  the  violoncello  that  per- 
haps ever  existed.  Before  the  wine  was  removed,  Mr.  Salomon,  the 
great  violin-player,  arrived,  and  brought  Haydn  with  him.  They 
were  both  old  friends  of  Madame  Mara.  Haydn  did  not  know  a 
word  of  English.  As  soon  as  we  knew  who  he  was,  Crosdill,  who 
was  always  in  high  spirits,  and  an  enthusiast  for  musical  talent  of  all 
kinds,  proposed  that  we  should  celebrate  the  arrival  of  Haydn  with 
three  times  three.  This  proposal  was  warmly  adopted  and  com- 
menced, all  parties  but  Haydn  standing  up.  He  heard  his  name 
mentioned,  but  not  understanding  this  species  of  congratulation,  stared 
at  us  with  surprise.  As  soon  as  the  ceremony  ended,  it  was  explained 
to  him  by  Salomon.  He  was  a  modest,  diffident,  and  delicate  man, 
and  was  so  confused  with  this  unexpected  and  novel  greeting,  that 
he  put  his  hands  before  his  face  and  was  quite  disconcerted  for  some 
minutes. 

Finding  that  he  was  in  company  with  so  celebrated  a  musical  per- 
former as  Crosdill,  and  so  popular  a  poet  as  Peter  Pindar,  whose 
fame  had  reached  him  in  Germany,  he  felt  himself  comfortable,  and 
we  did  not  separate  till  a  late  hour,  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of 
Madame  Mara,  who  was  delighted  to  see  so  great  a  genius  as  Haydn 
enjoying  the  animated  character  of  Crosdill,  the  sarcastic  shrewdness 
of  Salomon,  and  the  whimsical  sallies  of  Peter  Pindar.  A  few 
months  after,  when  Haydn  had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  the 
English  language,  Mr.  Salomon  invited  him,  Dr.  Wolcot,  and  myself, 
to  dine  at  the  coffee-house  in  Vere-street.  Oxford-street,  in  a  pri- 
vate room.  Salomon,  who  was  a  very  intelligent  man,  entertained 
us  with  anecdotes  of  distinguished  characters  in  Germany,  and  ex- 


HAYDN — ANTHONY  PASQUIN. 


159 


plained  many  observations  which  Haydn  made  on  the  works  of 
Handel,  Mozart,  and  other  eminent  musicians ;  at  length  the  name  of 
Pleyel  was  mentioned,  and  Dr.  Wolcot,  who  was  apt  to  blunder,, 
burst  into  a  rapturous  eulogium  on  the  admired  concertante  of  that* 
composer,  and  on  his  taste  and  genius  as  a  musician.  The  doctor 
carried  his  zeal  to  such  an  extent,  forgetting  that  there  was  so  great 
a  musical  genius  in  the  room,  that  Haydn  at  last,  readily  admitting 
the  merit  of  Pleyel,  could  not  help  adding,  a  little  warmly,  "But  I 
hope  it  will  be  remembered  that  he  was  my  pupil."  The  doctor 
feit  this  remark  as  a  rebuke,  and  attempted  a  confused  apology. 

I  afterward  met  Haydn  at  Mrs.  Billington's  at  Brompton.  The 
party  was  large.  Shield  was  present ;  but  the  room  was  disgraced 
by  the  appearance  of  a  man  named  Williams,  who  was  not  better 
known  by  the  assumed  designation  of  Anthony  Pasquin.  This  man 
was  by  no  means  destitute  of  talents  or  humour,  but  was  vain,  vulgar, 
insolent,  and  overbearing.  His  works  are  marked  by  low  malignity. 
He  was  the  terror  of  the  middling  and  lower  order  of  actors  and 
artists,  and  would  call  on  them  in  a  morning,  ask  them  if  they  dined 
at  home,  and  finding  that  they  did,  would  impudently  order  them  to 
get  a  particular  dish,  and  sometimes  bring  an  acquaintance  with  him 
at  the  appointed  hour.  This  practice  he  carried  on  for  many  years, 
almost  subsisting  upon  timid  painters  and  performers,  musical  and 
theatrical,  who  were  afraid  of  his  attacks  in  newspapers,  or  in  his 
abusive  verses. 

At  the  dinner  which  I  have  mentioned,  he  sat  opposite  to  Haydn, 
whom  he  suddenly  addressed  in  the  following  manner.  "  Mr.  Haydn, 
you  are  the  greatest  genius  that  ever  I  saw,"  concluding  with  a  very 
coarse  and  violent  asseveration.  Haydn  was  confused,  and  the  com- 
pany shocked,  not  only  by  this  vulgar  salutation,  but  by  the  general 
coarseness  and  obtrusiveness  of  his  manners. 

Hearing  that  Mr.  Shield,  Dr.  Wolcot,  and  myself  had  ordered  a 
coach  at  night,  he  watched  us,  and  as  we  were  getting  into  it,  forced 
himself  upon  us,  alleging  that  he  would  pay  his  portion  of  the  fare. 
Shield,  who  was  all  good-nature  and  kindness,  readily  assented,  but  to 
the  horror  of  Dr.  Wolcot,  who  with  great  difficulty  concealed  the 
disgust  which  Pasquin  had  excited.  Willing  to  have  a  little  harmless 
mischiaf  in  the  coach,  I  jogged  Shield,  who  with  all  his  benevolence 
was  fond  of  fun.  I  expressed  myself  highly  gratified  in  being  a  fellow- 
passenger  with  two  men  of  great  genius,  who  had  both  distinguished 
their  poetical  powers  under  fictitious  appellations,  observing  how- 
gratifying  it  would  be  to  the  world  if  they  would  unite  their  powers, 
and  publish  a  work  in  conjunction,  proposing  that  they  should  shake 
hands  together  to  ratify  their  undertaking.  Pasquin  immediately 
stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  declared  that  he  should  feel  great  pride 
in  such  a  literary  alliance,  and  attempted  to  seize  the  hand  of  Wol- 
cot, who  felt  unwilling  to  offer  it,  and  held  it  in  such  a  manner  as  if 
he  feared  contagion  in  the  touch.  I  resumed  the  subject,  and  was 
beginning  to  predict  some  admirable  production  of  their  united  genius, 
when  Wolcot  could  no  longer  restrain  his  feelings,  but  accused  me? 

H2 


160 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


with  great  warmth,  of  endeavouring  to  promote  mischief.  I  appealed 
to  Shield,  who  enjoyed  the  joke,  whether  1  had  not  endeavoured 
rather  to  promote  harmony  between  two  persons  who  were  before 
strangers  to  each  other.  Finding  its  effect  upon  Shield,  for  whom 
the  doctor  had  a  sincere  regard,  he  began  to  see  that  I  had  nothing 
but  merry  mischief  in  view,  and  remained  silent ;  still  nothing  could 
induce  him  to  turn  towards  Pasquin,  who  sat  on  the  same  side  with 
him.  At  length  the  coach  stopped,  by  order,  at  St.  Paul's,  Covent 
Garden,  and  the  moment  the  man  opened  the  door,  Pasquin  bolted 
out  and  ran  towards  the  Strand.  Wolcot,  seeing  him  run  off,  imitated 
his  example,  and  ran  the  contrary  way  with  as  little  ceremony.  I 
however  pursued  him,  but  he  took  hold  of  the  church  rails,  laughed 
heartily,  saying,  "  As  soon  as  I  saw  Gibbet  run,  I  resolved  to  follow 
his  example."  However,  he  came  back  to  Shield,  and  readily  paid 
his  portion  of  the  fare,  not  without  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of 
Shield,  who  wanted  to  consider  the  coach  as  wholly  his  own,  parti- 
cularly as  he  had  suffered  Pasquin  to  enter  it.  We  then  concluded 
a  pleasant  night  together. 

Among  the  theatrical  performers  upon  whom  this  Anthony  Pasquin 
levied  contributions  was  Mrs.  Abingion,  and  as  this  lady  had  by  no 
means  been  a  votaress  of  Diana  in  the  early  part  of  her  life,  he  exer- 
cised a  double  power  over  her;  for  if  she  rejected  his  applications  for 
pecuniary  assistance,  he  could  not  only  wound  her  feelings  by  alluding 
to  scenes  which  she  of  course  wished  to  be  buried  in  oblivion,  but 
could  bitterly  animadvert  upon  her  theatrical  exertions  while  she 
remained  on  the  stage.  Such  was  her  terror  of  this  predatory 
financier,  that  she  submitted  to  all  his  exactions. 

My  friend  Yfilliam  Cooke,  the  old  barrister,  who  was  really  her 
friend,  endeavoured  to  rescue  her  from  this  thraldom,  but  in  vain ; 
Pasquin  invited  himself  to  dine  with  her  whenever  he  pleased,  and 
always  reversed  the  usual  order  of  things,  by  making  her  pay  him 
for  attending  her  involuntary  invitations. 

When  my  late  friend  William  Gifford  published  a  new  edition  of 
his  "  Baeviad  and  Maeviad,"  he  alluded  in  some  bitter  strictures  to 
Anthony,  who  brought  actions  against  the  author,  and  a  considerable 
number  of  booksellers  who  had  sold  the  work.  The  chief  defendant 
employed  Mr.  Garrow  as  his  counsel,  and  in  the  defence,  that  gentle- 
man cited  so  many  infamous  passages  from  Pasquin's  works*  of  an 
offensive  description,  that  he  was  nonsuited,  and  obliged  to  fly  to 
America  to  avoid  the  pressure  of  the  law  expenses  which  he  had  in- 
curred. In  America,  he  was  employed  by  the  proprietor  of  a  news- 
paper hostile  to  Cobbett,  to  attack  that  writer,  but  though  Anthony 
had  a  ready  knack  at  rhyming,  he  wTas  a  bad  prose  writer,  and  found 
Peter  Porcupine  too  formidable  an  adversary,  and  the  strong  pen  of 
that  author  soon  drove  him  back  to  England,  where  he  was  obliged 
to  live  in  obscurity  for  fear  of  his  creditors.  He  however  emerged 
again,  was  employed  to  write  for  a  morning  paper,  and  dragged  on 
a  precarious  subsistence. 

During  the  time  he  was  in  America,  there  was  a  report  of  his  death. 


ANTHONY  PASQUIN  MR.  WEST,  PRES.  R.  A.  161 

Mr.  Cooke  immediately  went  to  Mrs.  Abington  and  congratulated 
her  on  the  death  of  her  literary  tyrant.  Mrs.  Abington,  who  knew 
the  man,  and  suspected  the  artifices  Which  he  was  likely  to  adopt,  far 
from  manifesting  the  pleasure  which  Mr.  Cooke  thought  his  news  was 
calculated  to  excite,  displayed  a  painful  expression  on  her  features, 
and  earnestly  addressing  him,  said,  "  Are  you  sure  he  is  dead  V  The 
event  justified  her  doubt,  for  after  having  compromised  with  his  cre- 
ditors, who  wisely  reflected  on  the  folly  of  throwing  away  money  in 
law  upon  such  a  man,  they  suffered  him  to  subsist  upon  the  depreda- 
tion of  the  pen. 

His  despicable  life  really  ended  some  years  ago  at  an  obscure  village 
not  far  from  London.  It  was  my  misfortune  to  be  in  early  life  ac- 
quainted with  this  man,  before  he  was  so  degraded  a  character,  and 
he  consulted  me  on  the  state  of  his  eyes.  I  lamented  the  connexion, 
but  bore  it  with  fortitude.  I  lost  his  friendship  unexpectedly.  On 
the  day  when  the  late  Mr.  W  est,  the  President  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
first  exhibited  his  large  fine  picture  of  Christ  Rejected,  as  I  was  going 
to  see  it  I  met  Pasquin,  who  was  returning  from  the  private  view. 
He  told  me  where  he  had  been,  and  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of 
the  picture.  He  said  that  there  were  some  beauties  and  many  faults. 
"Ay,"  said  I,  "but  you  are  so  kind  and  liberal-minded  that  you  will 
take  no  notice  of  the  latter."  He  left  me  abruptly  with  a  frown,  and 
though  we  often  passed  each  other  afterward,  he  never  condescended 
to  notice  me  again. 

Worthless  and  despicable  as  this  man  was,  I  cannot  but  condemn 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  treated  on  an  occasion  which  de- 
veloped his  character  and  doomed  him  to  irremovable  disgrace.  He 
had,  doubtless,  under  a  consciousness  of  the  terrors  of  his  pen,  and 
the  boldness  of  his  arrogance,  for  he  affected  the  character  of  a  hero, 
uttered  something  that  disgusted  the  company  at  a  tavern  in  Bow- 
street,  Covent  Garden,  and  an  apology  was  demanded  on  his  knees, 
which  he  refused  to  give.  He  was  then  assailed  by  persons  of  more 
strength  than  himself,  and  so  severely  beaten,  that,  partly  from  weak- 
ness and  partly  from  fear,  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  uttered  all  that  was 
required,  and  then  sunk  to  the  ground,  in  which  situation  he  was 
kicked  in  the  mouth,  and  his  front  teeth,  which  were  fine  ones,  were 
driven  from  their  sockets.  This  treatment  was  cruelty,  not  just  re- 
sentment. It  would  have  been  surely  sufficient  to  have  pulled  the 
lion's  skin  from  the  detected  ass. 

Having  mentioned  Mr.  West,  I  must  indulge  myself  in  a  tribute  of 
respect  to  him  as  an  old  and  esteemed  friend.  I  knew  him  very 
many  years,  and  often  visited  him  in  his  painting-room,  where  I  de- 
rived much  pleasure  from  his  conversation.  The  Royal  Academy 
used  to  have  a  dinner  on  the  anniversary  of  the  birthday  of  the  late 
Queen  Charlotte,  and  the  members  had  the  privilege  of  introducing 
a  friend.  I  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  West  on  these  occasions  for  many 
years,  and  he  generally  placed  me  next  to  himself  on  his  left  hand  at 
the  cross-table.  On  one  occasion,  seeing  the  late  Sir  Henry,  then 
Mr.  Raeburn,  unnoticed  at  one  of  the  long  tables,  as  I  had  the  pleas* 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


wre  of  knowing  him,  I  suggested  to  Mr.  West  that  the  great  artist  of 
Edinburgh  was  present,  and  that  I  was  sure  he  would  be  glad  to 
show  Mr.  Raeburn  a  mark  of  his  respect.  Mr.  West  readily  adopted 
the  hint,  and  after  a  handsome  compliment  to  Mr.  Raeburn  on  his  profes- 
sional merit,  invited  him  to  a  seat  at  the  cross-table.  Mr.  Raeburn, 
who  was  a  very  modest  and  amiable  man,  was  quite  confused  by  this 
unexpected  notice  ;  but,  expressing  his  thanks  in  a  few  words,  he  could 
not  avoid  the  invitation.  When  he  came  to  the  cross-table,  he  said 
with  a  good-natured  reprehension,  "  You  brought  all  this  embarrass- 
ment upon  me." 

While  my  son  was  at  the  high-school  at  Edinburgh,  he  received 
much  kind  attention  fron*  this  estimable  gentleman,  who  told  me  in 
a  letter  that  he  had  made  a  sketch  of  a  young  friend  for  me,  and  soon 
after  sent  to  me  a  finished  and  beautiful  portrait  of  my  son. 

I  once  before  had  an  opportunity  of  drawing  from  an  obscure  situa- 
tion a  gentleman  by  station  and  character  entitled  to  public  respect. 
This  gentleman  was  Mr.  Jay,  the  American  minister  to  the  British  gov- 
ernment. I  dined  on  a  lord  mayors  day  at  Guildhall,  in  one  of  the 
private  rooms,  and  Mr.  Jay  was  pointed  out  to  me.  I  thought  that 
from  respect  to  the  American  government  its  minister  should  be  more 
distinguished.  I  therefore  went  to  the  cross-table  in  the  great  hall, 
and  in  a  whisper  told  Sir  John  Scott,  now  the  venerable  Lord  Eldon, 
whom  I  had  the  honour  of  knowing,  the  situation  of  Mr.  Jay.  Sir 
John  immediately  informed  the  lord  mayor,  who  instantly  sent  an 
officer  to  invite  Mr.  Jay  to  the  cross-table,  where  he  was  received 
with  the  distinction  due  to  his  character  as  the  American  representa- 
tive. I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  Mr.  Jay,  and 
never  saw  him  afterward. 

Mr.  West  was  mild  and  respectful  in  his  manners.  He  was  very 
susceptible  of  jocularity,  and  told  a  story  with  humour.  In  his  serious 
narratives,  while  he  always  kept  in  view  the  main  features,  he  never 
lost  sight  of  those  particulars  which  tended  to  render  the  subject  more 
perspicuous,  or  to  illustrate  the  character  to  which  it  essentially  re- 
lated. His  account  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  Washington,  which 
I  have  heard  him  more  than  once  relate,  was  interesting  to  a  very 
high  degree. 

As  an  artist,  it  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  offer  my  opinion  of 
him,  as  his  works  are  before  the  world,  and  have  firmly  established 
his  reputation.  The  vast  number  of  his  productions,  and  the  variety 
of  the  subjects,  demonstrate  the  force  of  his  mind  and  the  power  of 
his  imagination.  The  extensive  collection  of  his  works  and  their  gen- 
eral merit  ought  to  have  rendered  them  a  national  feature,  and  it  is 
by  no  means  a  credit  to  the  American  government  that  it  declined 
to  purchase  them  in  their  combined  state,  as  they  might  have  been 
had  for  a  sum  that  a  government  must  be  supposed  well  able  to  afford. 
Besides,  such  a  collection  would  not  only  have  been  a  national  school 
for  a  rising  country,  but  have  been  an  honour  to  America,  of  which 
the  artist  was  a  native. 

I  am  sorry  to  observe  that  the  hostility  towards  West  and  his  works, 


MR.  WEST,  PRES.  R.  A.  WALKING  STEWART.  163 

which  appears  in  the  poems  of  Dr.  Wolcot,  was  not  creditable  to  him, 
even  as  a  critic,  and  was  evidently  the  result  of  his  partiality  to  Opie, 
not  without  just  grounds  of  suspicion  that  he  was  actuated  by  inter- 
ested motives.  Mr.  West  was  by  no  means  illiberal  in  his  comments 
on  the  works  of  rival  artists,  but  on  the  contrary  was  a  warm  patron 
of  rising  talents.  He  zealously  encouraged  the  promising  talents  of 
the  late  Mr.  Harlowe,  who,  if  his  private  qualities  had  entitled  him  as 
much  to  respect  as  his  genius  did  to  admiration,  would  have  stood 
high  in  the  esteem  of  all  lovers  of  art.  Mr.  West  was  an  affectionate 
husband  and  father,  and  he  was  chosen  president  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy on  account  of  his  personal  worth,  as  well  as  because  he  was 
deemed,  from  his  general  skill,  judgment,  and  knowledge,  the  best 
qualified  to  succeed  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

When  Mr.  West  brought  forward  his  picture  of"  Christ  Rejected," 
it  was  purchased  by  many  noblemen  and  other  admirers  of  the  fine 
arts.  As  a  grateful  return  for  their  liberal  protection,  he  had  a  medal 
struck,  on  one  side  of  which  was  a  profile  of  his  face,  and  on  the  other 
a  list  of  his  subscribers.  He  presented  one  of  these  medals  to  me 
with  the  following  letter,  which  I  preserve  with  pride  as  the  relic 
of  a  friend  and  a  man  of  extraordinary  genius : — 

Mr.  West  presents  his  respects  to  his  friend  John  Taylor,  Esq.,  and 
requests  that  he  will  honour  Mr.  West  by  accepting  the  enclosed 
medal  as  a  token  of  his  great  respect  (as  a  friend  for  many  years), 
and  to  keep  it  in  his  possession  as  a  mark  of  that  friendship. 

Newman-street,  July  19,  1816. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

John  Stewart,  the  traveller.  With  this  gentleman,  who  was 
generally  known  by  the  name  of  Walking  Stewart,  I  was  intimately 
acquainted  for  many  years,  and  I  never  knew  a  man  with  more  dif- 
fusive benevolence,  for  he  not  only  felt  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
mankind,  but  of  all  sensitive  nature.  He  thought  it  loss  of  time  to  spec- 
ulate on  the  origin  of  worlds.  As  Socrates  was  said  to  have  brought 
philosophy  down  from  heaven,  it  may  be  said  of  Stewart  also,  that 
he  endeavoured  to  inculcate  such  doctrines  as  should  induce  human 
beings  to  promote  the  happiness  of  each  other,  and  to  consider  that 
object  as  the  chief  interest  as  well  as  duty  of  man. 

He  held  that  there  was  a  perpetual  revolution  in  nature,  and  that, 
as  Pope  says, 

M       forms  that  perish  other  forms  supply  ;" 

objecting,  however,  to  the  word  perish,  considering  death  as  only  the 


164 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


dispersion  of  matter,  and  that  it  always  would  be  connected  with 
sensation.  Hence  he  maintained  that  it  was  the  eternal  interest  of 
man  to  exempt  as  much  as  possible  all  sensitive  beings  from  pain,  as, 
when  he  had  lost  the  human  form,  he  would  become  a  part  of  all  in- 
ferior animals  of  every  description,  and  consequently  the  matter  of 
which  he  once  consisted  would  bear  a  portion  of  the  pain  inflicted 
upon  beings  susceptible  of  physical  evit  to  a  certain  degree.  For  in- 
stance, in  the  case  of  a  hackney  horse,  if  you  could  induce  those  per- 
sons under  whose  control  it  might  fall,  to  treat  the  animal  kindly,  they 
might  be  less  liable  to  pain  when  they  became  a  part  of  such  an  ani- 
mal ;  and  so  of  all  other  beings  that  might  be  brought  under  the  gov- 
ernment of  man. 

He  used  to  enforce  this  system  wTith  a  vast  variety  of  illustrations, 
and  with  a  powerful  command  of  language.  His  father  was  an 
eminent  linen-draper  in  Bond-street,  who  placed  him  at  the  Charter- 
house for  a  classical  education,  and  in  due  time  procured  for  him  a 
writership  in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.  After  being 
some  time  in  India,  and  discovering,  as  he  conceived,  many  enormous 
abuses  in  our  Asiatic  settlements,  he  wrote  to  the  directors  at  home, 
stating  all  those  abuses  and  pointing  out  the  means  of  remedy.  No 
notice,  as  might  be  expected,  was  taken  of  his  letter,  and  he  wrote 
again,  signifying  that  if  the  directors  did  not  remove  these  abuses, 
"which  were  injurious  to  the  company  and  disgraceful  to  the  British 
character,  he  should  think  himself  privileged  to  relinquish  the  service, 
and  seek  employment  among  the  native  powers. 

Finding  all  his  efforts  ineffectual,  he  quitted  the  British  settlements, 
but  was  pursued,  and  refusing  to  return,  he  was  actually  shot,  though 
not  severely.  He  was  then  forced  to  return,  but  found  an  opportu- 
nity of  escape.  He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  troops  of  Hyder  Ally, 
and  when  brought  to  that  potentate,  was  told  by  him  that,  if  he  did 
not  enter  into  his  army,  he  should  be  treated  as  a  spy.  He  was  there- 
fore obliged  to  submit,  in  order  to  save  his  life,  and  was  concerned 
in  many  actions  under  Hyder  with  other  native  powers.  He  was 
again  wounded,  but  not  materially.  How  long  he  remained  in  the 
service  of  Hyder,  I  know  not.  He  afterward  entered  into  the  service 
of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  in  the  civil  department,  and  held  the  appoint- 
ment of  treating  secretary.  His  office  was  to  receive,  entertain,  and 
otherwise  accommodate  all  persons  who  came  as  ambassadors,  or  on 
any  public  mission  to  the  nabob.  In  this  service  he  expended  a  great 
part  of  what  he  possessed,  and  the  nabob  was  in  arrears  for  salary  to 
him  to  a  very  considerable  amount. 

Seeing  no  hope  of  being  reimbursed,  he  determined  to  return  to 
Europe,  and  resolved  to  visit  Persia  in  his  way  home ;  but,  finding 
that  the  Persian  monarch  v*Tas  at  war  with  a  neighbouring  power,  he 
endeavoured  to  procure  a  passage  in  a  mercantile  vessel  that  was 
leaving  the  country.  Being  considered  an  infidel,  he  was  not  suffered 
to  take  his  passage  in  the  vessel,  lest  some  evil  should  befall  the  captain 
and  his  crew,  but  a  cage  was  provided  for  him  on  the  side  of  the  ship. 
He  was  exposed  to  the  spray  of  the  sea  for  a  fortnight,  but  was  pro- 


WALKING  STEWART. 


165 


vided  with  food  every  day,  and  suffered  no  other  inconvenience  than 
that  of  being  in  such  an  uncomfortable  situation.  He  then  visited 
various  countries,  and  among  others  Lapland,  in  which  he  went  a 
mile  and  a  half  beyond  the  place  marked  as  the  utmost  limit  of  human 
visitation. 

When  I  was  first  introduced  to  him  in  this  country,  he  wore  the 
Armenian  habit.  He  continued  to  wear  it  till  it  was  worn  out,  and 
then  assumed  the  usual  European  attire.  When  he  first  returned 
from  India,  he  possessed  about  3000Z. ;  how  acquired  I  know  not,  but, 
I  have  no  doubt,  with  perfect  integrity,  for  he  was  a  truly  honest  and 
honourable  man  ;  probably  in  the  service  of  Hyder  Ally,  and  other 
native  princes,  to  whom  he  had  rendered  himself  useful,  for  his 
knowledge  was  so  various  and  extensive  that  he  seemed  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  the  secrets  of  all  trades  and  callings.  After  trying 
various  means  to  dispose  of  the  major  part  of  what  he  brought  from 
India,  he  deposited  it  in  the  French  funds,  not  long  before  the  revo- 
lution. He  was,  I  believe,  to  receive  an  annuity  of  300/.,  part  of 
which  was  actually  paid  to  him  during  the  time  of  the  revolutionary 
government;  at  length  however  it  was  wholly  withdrawn.  But 
with  what  he  retained  of  his  Asiatic  acquirement  he  went  to  America ; 
and  on  his  return  to  this  country  was  so  reduced  in  his  circumstances, 
that  he  was  wholly  dependent  for  support  on  a  humane  and  respect- 
able tradesman  in  the  borough  of  Southwark,  who  had  married  his 
sister. 

In  America  he  supported  himself  by  delivering  lectures  upon  his 
system,  as  to  its  being  the  interest  of  man,  in  what  he  styled  the 
state  of  personal  identity,  to  exercise  benevolence  to  every  species 
of  animal  wherever  he  might  have  the  opportunity.  During  his  stay 
in  America,  he  was  reduced  to  so  low  a  state  as  to  solicit  a  very  rich 
man  to  suffer  him  to  sit  by  his  kitchen  fire,  and  allow  him  a  johnny- 
cake  daily  for  food.  This  johnny-cake,  he  said,  was  the  value  of  a 
halfpenny ;  yet  this  rich  man,  who  had  known  him  in  India,  refused 
to  grant  either  of  his  requests. 

He  at  length  returned  to  England,  and  threw  himself  again  upon 
the  protection  of  his  brother-inrlaw.  His  sister,  I  believe,  was  dead. 
On  the  settlement  of  the  affairs  of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  about  sixteen 
thousand  pounds  were  awarded  to  Stewart,  after  some  difficulty  in 
proving  the  justness  of  his  claims.  He  then  discharged  all  his  pecu- 
niary obligations  to  his  brother-in-law,  and  some  few  debts,  which, 
with  all  his  moderation,  he  could  not  avoid  contracting. 

Previous  to  this  decision  in  his  favour,  he  lodged  at  the  White 
Bear,  in  Piccadilly,  and  I  believe  gratuitously,  for  the  landlord  had  a 
great  respect  for  him,  and  when  I  went  to  inquire  for  him,  he  always 
expressed  an  anxious  wish  for  his  return  from  America,  and  his  readi- 
ness to  afford  him  every  accommodation.  After  his  return  from 
America,  finding  that  the  French  revolutionary  principles  appeared 
to  be  gaining  ground,  and  thinking  that  they  were  likely  to  destroy 
all  regular  governments,  and  to  give  an  ascendency  to  the  mob,  he 
again  departed  for  America,  considering  that  country  as  the  only 

H3 


166 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


secure  asylum  for  the  friends  of  order  and  rational  freedom.  He 
was,  however,  a  friend  to  monarchy  and  legislative  government; 
and  even  maintained  that  the  authority  of  the  laws,  while  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  civil  liberty  of  the  subject,  should  be  rigidly  enforced. 

He  considered  me  as  one  of  his  most  particular  friends,  and  used 
to  visit  me  every  Sunday  morning  for  some  years.  I  have  many  of 
his  letters,  which  generally  commenced  in  "the  following  manner : 
"  Dear  fellow-part  of  our  common  integer,  Nature,"  which  I  always? 
endeavoured  to  answer  in  the  same  style.  He  published  many 
works,  most  of  which  I  possess.  They  are  written  in  so  lofty  a  style 
as  to  be  generally  unintelligible,  particularly  in  the  use  of  scientific 
terms  with  a  novel  application.  His  first  work  was  entitled  "  Travels 
to  discover  the  Source  of  Moral  Motion  ;"  and  he  laughed  when 
people  inquired  as  to  the  manners,  customs,  dress,  or  governments 
of  the  several  countries  he  had  visited,  declaring  that  his  purpose  was 
to  ascertain  what  were  the  principles  of  justice  and  morality  v>hich 
were  held  as  standard  rules  in  all  places. 

People  with  good  understandings,  who  did  not  take  the  trouble  of 
examining  his  doctrines,  deterred  by  the  peculiarity  of  the  language, 
too  hastily  concluded  that  he  was  insane  ;  but  those  who  did  examine 
them  revered  his  understanding  and  admired  his  benevolence.  In 
conversation  he  made  his  most  difficult  works  clear  by  the  aptness 
and  variety  of  his  illustrations.  Though  his  mind  appeared  to  be 
wholly  absorbed  in  his  doctrines,  yet  he  seemed  te  be  well  acquainted 
with  human  nature,  and  his  advice  upon  most  subjects  evinced  so 
much  knowledge  and  judgment,  that  he  was  never  consulted  on  any 
matter  of  familiar  life  and  business  without  advantage ;  and  I  heard 
a  very  intelligent  lady,  who  was  one  of  his  great  admirers,  say,  that 
she  believed  he  could  give  the  best  directions  even  for  "  the  making 
of  a  pudding." 

When  his  claims  on  the  nabob  were  satisfied,  he  immediately  pur- 
chased an  annuity  for  his  life,  and,  as  I  heard,  too  hastily,  for  he 
might  have  obtained  better  terms  if  he  had  waited  ;  but  he  had  ex- 
perienced the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  security  was  his  chief  object. 
He  took  apartments  in  Cockspur-street.  and  invited  a  few  select 
friends  to  dine  with  him  every  Sunday,  and  I  was  always  a  favourite 
guest.  After  dinner,  and  before  the  wine  was  removed,  he  usually 
gave  a  lecture  upon  his  own  peculiar  doctrines,  but  observing  that 
his  guests  entered  into  general  conversation,  and  did  not  appear  to 
be  very  attentive  to  his  discourse,  he  gave  up  the  dinners,  and  sub- 
stituted evening  parties  to  tea  and  music,  to  which  both  sexes  were 
invited :  he  engaged  public  performers  to  assist  on  the  occasion,  and 
his  parties  wTere  usually  well  attended. 

He  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  purchased  annual  tickets  at  the 
theatres,  but  chiefly  where  he  could  hear  most  music,  not  caring  the 
least  for  dramatic  performances,  or  the  words  which  accompanied 
the  music. 

Dramatic  scenes  of  bloodshed  he  abhorred,  and  used  to  ask  what 
impression  the  murders  of  Richard  and  Macbeth  could  be  supposed 


f 


WALKING  STEWART.  167 

to  make  on  him  who  had  lived  under  tyrants  in  the  east,  where 
human  life  was  never  secure,  and  where  not  only  families  of  all  ranks, 
but  whole  districts  have  been  swept  off  in  a  moment. 

He  deluded  himself  into  a  belief  that  his  system  of  philosophy  was 
so  important,  that  it  would  in  time  become  universally  prevalent. 
He  had  an  intention  of  having  his  name  engraved  on  a  projecting 
rock  in  the  Atlantic,  in  the  largest  characters  the  place  would  admit, 
in  order  that  passengers  in  ships,  seeing  the  name,  might  be  induced 
to  examine  his  principles.  He  affected  singularity  in  his  dress,  in 
order  that,  by  attracting  attention  to  his  person,  he  might  bring  his 
doctrines  into  notice.  He  always  dressed  in  black,  and  wore  a 
spencer  throughout  the  summer.  He  generally  stuffed  a  red  pocket- 
handkerchief  into  his  breast,  but  in  such  a  manner  that  part  of  it 
might  be  seen.  I  asked  him  why  he  did  so.  He  said  it  looked 
buckish,  attracted  attention,  and  would  consequently  lead  spectators 
to  inquire  into  his  doctrines,  and  thus  give  them  a  chance  of  being 
universally  current. 

.  He  never  liked  to  talk  upon  the  subject  of  religion,  because  he  did 
not  wish  to  shake  the  religious  opinions  of  any  person,  considering 
that  they  operate,  like  law,  as.  a  restrain  upon  irregular  passions.  In 
contradiction  to  those  intelligent  persons  who,  thinking  him  insane, 
would  not  take  the  trouble  to  examine  his  doctrines,  I  may  state 
what  was  said  of  him  by  Mr.  Combe,  whose  intellectual  powers  were 
of  a  high  order.  He  told  me  that  when  he  met  Mr.  Stewart  in  the 
street,  and  had  some  conversation  with  him,  he  never  went  away 
without  feeling  his  mind  enlarged. 

Mr.  Walker,  author  of  "  The  Pronouncing  Dictionary,"  and  of 
many  valuable  works,  once  met  Stewart  at  my  house  in  Hatton 
Garden.  They  began  to  converse,  and  Walker,  who,  though  a  rigid 
Roman  Catholic,  was  a  very  sensible  man,  quoted  something  from 
Scripture,  which  Stewart,  being  rather  deaf,  did  not  hear,  for  other- 
wise he  would  have  thought  a  reference  to  Holy  Writ,  upon  a  philoso- 
sophical  subject  so  absurd  that  he  would  not  have  thought  Walker 
worthy  of  any  farther  conversation.  I  contrived,  however,  to  keep 
them  upon  the  subject  of  the  improvement  of  the  mind,  which  was  a 
primary  object  of  both,  and  they  parted  in  mutual  good-humour. 

If  he  were  not  questioned  on  the  subject  of  the  manners,  customs, 
&c.  of  the  various  countries  which  he  had  visited,  he  would  give  very 
interesting  relations  upon  those  subjects,  which  otherwise  he  consi- 
dered as  too  trifling  to  deserve  notice.  In  these  relations  he  displayed 
great  humour,  and  admirable  powers  of  mimicry  and  versatility, 
particularly  in  imitating  the  tone  and  manners  of  foreigners.  How 
he  could  have  obtained  this  knowledge,  it  is  difficult  to  say,  considering 
his  abstraction  from  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life  ;  it  seemed  like 
intuition. 

Unwilling  to  press  too  much  upon  the  kindness  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  he  thought  of  studying  and  acting  the  part  of  Macheath,  and  to 
engage  the  Haymarket  theatre  for  that  purpose,  conceiving  that  the 
singularity  of  his  character  would  bring  a  full  house.   The  fortunate 


368 


HECORPS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


adjustment  of  his  claims  upon  the  nabob,  however,  frustrated  his 
design. 

Sadler's  Wells,  Astley's,  and  other  minor  theatres,  were  the  places 
where  he  thought  he  could  hear  most  music ;  but  if  any  scenes  of 
horror  and  bloodshed  occurred  during  the  performance,  he  always 
turned  his  back  upon  the  stage. 

Though  he  was  so  well  acquainted  with  mankind,  he  was  so  little 
inclined  to  suspicion,  that  when  a  person  addressed  him  in  the  Park, 
and  entered  into  conversation  with  him,  without  learning  who  or  what 
he  was,  he  invited  him  to  his  dinner  parties.  Luckily  the  person 
was  an  American  of  respectable  character. 

He  accounted  for  the  earnestness  with  which  he  examined  all  sub- 
jects, and  his  great  inclination  to  habits  of  reflection,  by  stating  that 
his  mother  kept  him  under  such  strict  discipline  in  the  early  part  of 
his  life,  that  even  in  putting  down  his  hat,  or  doing  any  trifling  action 
during  her  superintendence,  he  felt  himself  obliged  to  consider  whether 
he  should  act  in  a  manner  that  she  would  approve.* 

In  fine  mornings  he  used  to  seat  himself  on  Westminster  Bridge, 
in  order  to  contemplate  the  passing  crowd.  Mr.  Combe  told  me  that 
he  used  to  meet  him  for  the  purpose  of  engaging  jn  conversation  with 
him,  and  assured  me  that  he  never  left  Stewart  without  feeling  his 
own  mind  enlarged  by  Stewart's  acute  remarks  and  profound  reflec- 
tions. Yet  Combe  was  not  likely  to  underrate  his  own  powers,  and 
was  very  capable  of  estimating  those  of  others. 

On  Stewart's  death,  as  a  bottle  was  found  empty  in  his  bed-room 
which  had  contained  laudanum,  it  was  surmised  that  he  purposely  de- 
stroyed himself ;  but  however  circumstances  might  seem  to  justify 
such  a  suspicion,  I  never  could  give  credit  to  it ;  for  I  am  persuaded  he 
thought  his  life  of  so  much  importance  to  man  and  all  animals  to 
which  sensitive  matter  might  be  united,  that  he  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  had  it  extended  till  he  saw  the  triumph  of  his  benignant 
principles.  He  made  two  w  ills,  one  of  which  he  had  signed,  and  the 
other  of  a  later  date,  which  he  intended  to  sign,  and  get  attested  the 
day  after,  but  he  died,  as  it  appeared,  suddenly  in  the  night.  By  the 
latter  will  he  had  left  fifty  pounds  to  me,  but  the  former  was,  of  course, 
adopted.  He  had  a  complete  command  over  his  passions  ;  when  he 
was  tempted  towards  any  licentious  indulgence,  from  which  he  had 
no  religious  principles  to  restrain  him,  he  used  to  pause  and  consider 
how  the  money  which  it  would  cost  him  might  be  better  employed. 
He  then  used  to  explore  the  haunts  of  poverty,  and  purchase  in  the 
neighbourhood  articles  of  dress  for  the  children  that  he  saw  in  themy 
and  give  the  parents  money  to  buy  food.  He  wrould,  however,  stay 
to  see  that  it  was  devoted  to  the  purpose  for  which  he  had  bestowed  it. 

So  intent  was  he  upon  the  diffusion  of  his  principles,  that  he  actually 
walked  to  Edinburgh  for  the  sole  purpose  of  discussing  them  with 

*  It  is  strange  that  Dr.  Wolcot,  though  so  daring  in  his  satirical  attacks  cpoia 
public  characters,  told  me  that  he  was  kept  under  rigid  control  by  two  aunts,  who 
cowed  his  spirit  to  such  a  degree,  that  though  he  had  longfcbcen  released  from  their 
Ijrannj,  he  neyw  should  think  himself  a  man. 


OPIE  THE  FAINTER. 


the  late  Dugald  Stewart,  who  happened  at  that  time  to  be  at  a  dis- 
tance. His  death  deprived  the  world  of  an  amiable  man,  and  me  of 
a  sincere  friend. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Mr.  John  Opie,  R.  A.  This  artist  was  one  of  those  whom  nature 
ordains  to  rise  into  eminence,  notwithstanding  the  lowness  and  ob- 
scurity of  their  origin.  He  was  the  son  of  a  carpenter  in  Cornwall., 
and,  at  an  early  period,  discovered  a  propensity  to  drawing,  which  his 
father  did  not  discourage.  Dr.  Wolcot,  having  heard  of  the  boy,  and 
being  fond  of  painting,  desired  to  see  him.  For  that  purpose  he  went 
to  the  father's  house,  where  he  asked  for  John,  and  the  boy  presented 
himself.  The  doctor  desired  to  see  his  drawings,  and  he  ran  across 
the  yard  to  fetch  them.  Wolcot  told  me  that  he  should  always  have 
in  his  ears  the  sound  of  the  boy's  leather  apron  clattering  between 
his  knees,  as  he  ran  eagerly  to  bring  the  proofs  of  his  graphic  skill. 
Rough  and  uncouth  as  these  specimens  of  his  talents  w7ere,  the  doctor 
was  persuaded  that  he  saw  indications  of  a  genius  which  deserved 
cultivation.  He  therefore  took  him  into  his  own  house  at  Fowey? 
and  gave  him  all  the  instruction  in  his  power. 

Opie  made  such  rapid  improvement  under  the  doctor's  tuition,  that 
he  had  soon  the  courage  to  offer  himself  to  the  inhabitants  as  a 
portrait-painter.  His  efforts  were  encouraged,  but  his  gains  at  first 
were  very  small.  I  believe  his  original  price  was  five  shillings  for  a 
likeness.  The  next  price  was  half-a-guinea,  and  he  raised  his  de- 
mand in  his  progress  to  Exeter,  where  he  boldly  required  a  guinea,, 
and  then  thought  himself  in  the  high  road  to  affluence.  He  lived  many 
years  with  Dr.  Wolcot,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  with  whom  he 
profited  in  literature  as  well  as  in  painting. 

Opie  possessed  a  strong  mind,  and  a  retentive  memory.  He  soon 
became  conversant  with  Shakspeare  and  Dryden,  and  both  under- 
stood and  felt  their  beauties.  He  did  not  improve  in  his  manners  in 
proportion  to  his  other  attainments,  for  a  blunt  sincerity  always 
characterized  his  behaviour.  He  had  a  strong  sense  of  humour,  and 
was  capable  of  lively  sallies,  as  well  as  of  shrewd  and  forcible  re- 
marks. He  readily  acknowledged  the  merit  of  his  competitors,  par- 
ticularly Sip  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  I  never  saw  the  least  symptom 
of  envy  in  his  disposition.  I  was  very  intimate  with  him  for  many 
years,  during  the  life  of  his  wife  ;  but  as  his  second  wife  introduced 
new  connexions,  and  a  coolness  had  arisen  between  him  and  Dr. 
Wolcot,  and  as  I  was  upon  the  most  friendly  footing  with  the  doctor, 
I  did  not  think  it  proper  to  keep  up  a  close  intercourse  with  both,  and 
therefore  seldom  saw  Opie  again  till  during  the  illness  which  termi- 
nated in  his  death, 


170 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE, 


It  was  reported  that  a  written  compact  had  taken  place  between 
the  doctor  and  Opie,  in  which  the  latter  had  agreed  to  give  a  certain 
share  of  his  profits  to  the  former,  for  the  instruction  which  he  had  de- 
rived from  him,  as  well  as  for  his  board,  lodging,  and  other  supplies 
while  they  had  lived  together.  I  believe  this  report  was  not  wholly 
unfounded,  and  that  the  compact  was  dissolved  by  the  interference 
of  the  father  of  Opie's  first  wife,  which  induced  the  doctor,  in  anger 
and  disgust,  to  relinquish  all  claims  upon  the  successful  artist.  The 
consequence  was  the  coolness  which  I  have  mentioned ;  and  after 
this  adjustment,  Wolcot  and  Opie  seldom,  if  ever,  met  again. 

It  must  be  admitted,  that  Opie  was  much  indebted  to  Wolcot  for 
his  early  patronage,  and  afterward  for  his  zealous  literary  support, 
particularly  in  his  "Odes  to  the  Royal  Academicians."  Indeed,  there 
is  too  much  reason  to  believe  that  the  doctor's  unjust  and  persevering 
attacks  upon  the  works  of  Mr.  West  were  indirectly  intended  as  a 
sacrifice  to  the  rising  reputation  of  Opie.  It  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  Opie  would  object  to  this  poetical  incense  in  his  favour,  because 
he  had  to  rise  among  innumerable  competitors ;  yet,  from  all  I  ob- 
served of  his  disposition,  I  am  persuaded  he  was  too  liberal  to  excite, 
or  to  encourage  the  doctor  in  his  severity  on  others,  particularly  on 
Mr.  West,  of  whose  talents  and  knowledge  in  his  art  he  has  often 
spoken  to  me  with  respect. 

His  rustic  habits  were  too  firmly  fixed  for  him  wholly  to  subdue 
them,  yet  nobody  could  better  conceive  what  a  gentleman  should  be ; 
and  during  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  he  endeavoured,  and  not  with- 
out success,  to  illustrate  his  conception  by  his  manners.  His  rough 
sincerity,  however,  was  not  merely  the  effect  of  his  early  associations 
with  rustic  society,  for  much  of  it  was  doubtless  imputable  to  his  do- 
mestic intercourse  with  Dr.  Wolcot.  The  latter  was  vigorous  in  his 
manners,  and  according  to  the  adage,  that  cc  everything  begets  its  like," 
there  is  a  contagion  in  temper  from  which  it  is  difficult  to  escape  in 
close  association. 

There  is  a  well-written  sketch  of  the  life  and  character  of  Opie,  in 
a  very  amusing  work  entitled  "  The  Family  Library,"  but  as  the 
author  did  not  know  the  man,  he  has  fallen  into  some  mistakes.  I  do 
not  believe,  as  that  author  states,  that  Opie  was  ever  a  menial  servant 
of  Wolcot's,  but  lived  with  him  as  a  pupil  and  a  companion.  If  he 
had  lived  with  him  in  such  a  servile  capacity,  I  am  sure  the  doctor's 
pride  and  subsequent  resentment  would  have  induced  him  to  state  the 
fact.  The  first  anger  of  Wolcot  against  Opie,  as  the  former  told  me, 
arose  at  finding  that  Opie  had  supplanted  him  in  the  affections  of  a 
favourite  female  servant,  C;  but,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  forgave  him,  as  I 
knew,  with  Shakspeare,  that  '  Frailty,  thy  name  is  Woman.' " 

That  Opie  was  indebted  to  Wolcot  for  support  and  instruction 
during  many  years  before  he  came  to  London,  must  be  admitted. 
The  doctor,  therefore,  might  look  for  some  remuneration  from  the 
compact  into  which  they  had  mutually  entered,  and  which  he  was 
reluctantly  and  resentfully  induced  to  relinquish  by  the  interposition, 
as  I  have  said,  of  the  father  of  Opie's  first  wife. 


OPIE  THE  PAINTER  DR.  WOLCOT. 


m 


The  biographical  sketch  which  I  have  mentioned  imputes  to  Wol- 
cot  a  habit  of  swearing,  but  I  can  truly  say,  that  during  the  long 
period  I  was  acquainted  with  him  (with  some  intervention),  I  never 
observed  him  swear  more  than  people  in  general  do  when  much  ex- 
cited ;  and  that  it  was  by  no  means  his  habit :  strange,  indeed,  as  the 
assertion  may  appear,  I  think  no  man  had  higher  notions  of  a  gentle- 
man in  the  abstract,  or  even  of  romantic  attachment  to  female 
beauty  and  merit,  than  Dr.  Wolcot. 

I  remember  one  evening  when  I  had  been  much  irritated,  and 
"  perplexed  in  the  extreme/'  by  some  untoward  event,  and  expressed 
myself  with  too  much  vehemence,  the  doctor  rebuked  me,  and  said, 
"  Taylor,  be  always  elegant — never  lose  sight  of  the  gentleman." 

It  is  impossible  to  excuse  his  wanton  attacks  upon  the  good  old 
King  George  the  Third ;  but  it  is  a  disgrace  to  the  public,  that  the 
success  of  those  attacks  should  have  tempted  him  to  persevere  in  them. 
I  am  reluctant  to  palliate,  in  any  respect,  these  indecent  and  disloyal 
levities,  to  use  the  mildest  term,  upon  so  amiable  and  benevolent  a 
king;  but  I  can  venture  solemnly  to  say  that  the  doctor  entertained 
the  highest  notion  of  the  kingly  character,  and  it  was  therefore  be- 
cause our  revered  monarch  did  not  reach  to  his  beau  ideal  of  wThat  a 
monarch  should  be,  that  he  continued  his  satirical  hostility.  Indeed, 
it  must  be  admitted,  that  pecuniary  advantage  was  not  without  its 
influence  on  his  mind  ;  for  though  he  possessed  landed  property,  it  was 
but  small,  and  with  little  practice  in  his  profession,  if  any,  he  might 
find  it  necessary  to  profit  by  his  writings.  He  had,  however,  in  the 
beginning,  but  little  encouragement  to  proceed  in  his  poetical  career, 
for  he  assured  me  that  his  first  "  Odes  on  the  Royal  Academy"  failed 
in  attracting  public  notice,  spirited  and  original  as  they  must  be 
deemed  ;  the  publication  cost  him  forty  pounds. 

I  have  often  wondered  at  the  boldness  of  his  attacks  on  the  royal 
character,  and  his  general  license  of  satire,  as  he  was  naturally,  by 
his  own  acknowledgment,  by  no  means  of  an  heroic  disposition ;  but 
he  was  seduced  by  popular  favour  and  its  consequent  pecuniary  profit. 
He  was  once,  indeed,  so  alarmed  at  the  report  that  the  law  officers 
of  government  were  disposed  to  notice  his  attempts  to  degrade  the 
royal  character,  that  he  actually,  as  he  told  me,  made  preparations  to 
depart  suddenly  for  America  ;  but,  on  reflection,  determined  to  stay 
till  legal  proceedings  had  positively  been  commenced  against  him. 

It  has  often  been  observed  that  his  genius  would  have  been  more 
distinguished  if  he  had  employed  his  muse  on  some  large  work,  rather 
than  on  temporary  sallies;  but  genius  must  pursue  its  natural  bent,  and 
his  did  not  incline  towards  elaborate  compositions. 

Opie,  like  most  of  the  artists  whom  1  have  known,  was  afraid  of 
the  sarcastic  powers  of  Fuseli,  and  therefore  became  intimately  con- 
nected with  him.  To  this  fear,  I  am  disposed  to  think,  Fuseli  was 
indebted  for  the  several  places  which  he  was  permitted  to  hold  in  the 
Royal  Academy.  Yet  I  know  that  Opie  despised  the  works  of  Fuseli, 
though  he  was  awed  by  the  venom  of  his  tongue,  which  spared  neither 
friend  nor  foe. 


in 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


A  few  more  words  on  Fuseli,  and  he  deserves  but  few.  His  works 
are  in  general  distortions,  and  no  person  of  sound  taste  would  ever 
afford  them  house-room.  I  remember  that  Opie  said  to  me  of  Fuseli's 
picture  of  a  scene  in  Hamlet,  representing  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father, 
"  The  Royal  Dane,"  that  the  ghost  reminded  him  of  those  figures  over 
the  dials  of  chamber-clocks,  which  move  by  starts,  according  to  the 
movements  of  the  works  within.  In  my  opinion  a  very  apt  compar- 
ison, notwithstanding  the  opinion  of  my  friend  Mr.  Combe  (Dr.  Syn- 
tax), who  said  of  this  picture  that  it  gave  him  the  only  idea  which 
painting  had  ever  suggested  to  him  of  an  apparition. 

Dr.  Wolcot  said  of  Fuseli's  representation  of  a  scene  in  "  The  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,"  that  the  number  of  wild  fantastic  figures 
scattered  over  it  made  it  look  exactly  like  a  toy-shop.  I  never  liked 
Fuseli,  and,  fearless  of  his  satire,  never  concealed  my  opinion.  The 
late  Mr.  Farington,  an  excellent  artist  and  a  worthy  and  intelligent 
man,  knew  that  Fuseli  was  no  favourite  with  me,  and  anxious  to  serve 
him,  he  came  and  invited  me  to  meet  him  at  dinner,  bringing  with 
him  Fuseli's  lectures,  which  had  just  been  published-,  and  requesting 
that  I  would  take  extracts  from  them  for  insertion  in  a  public  journal 
which  I  then  conducted.  He  said,  "  I  know  you  do  not  like  Fuseli, 
but  when  I  tell  you  that  he  is  in  but  indifferent  circumstances,  I  know 
you  will  meet  and  endeavour  to  serve  him."  I  met  him,  and  the  late 
Sir  George  Beaumont  was  of  the  party.  The  mild  and  elegant  man- 
ners of  that  amiable  baronet  had  an  influence  upon  Fuseli,  who  en- 
deavoured to  make  himself  agreeable,  and  the  day  passed  off  very 
pleasantly. 

Not  long  after  I  met  Fuseli  in  company,  and  he  asked  me  when  I 
had  seen  Farington,  and  having  told  him  that  it  was  some  time  ago, 
he  said,  loud  enough  for  the  company  to  hear  him,  "  Then  he  don't 
want  a  puff"  Such  was  his  gratitude  to  the  liberal  friend  who  had 
interfered  in  his  favour. 

Another  time  I  dined  with  him  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Boaden,  a  gen- 
tleman well  known  in  the  literary  world.  Mr.  Colman  and  Mr. 
Charles  Kemble  were  among  the  company.  Fuseli,  being  asked  for 
a  toast,  gave  "  Peter  Pindar."  When  his  turn  came  to  drink  his  own 
toast,  he  refused,  saying,  "  I  give  him  as  a  toast,  but  I  will  not  drink 
to  his  honour."  Stupid  as  this  conduct  was,  his  admirers,  perhaps, 
may  consider  his  answer  as  a  bon  mot. 

1  could  say  much  more  respecting  Fuseli,  but  as  it  would  not  be  in 
his  favour,  I  check  my  pen,  wondering,  however,  that,  as  an  artist  or 
a  wit,  he  could  have  ever  been  the  subject  either  of  fear  or  panegyric ; 
though  he  certainly  was  the  subject  of  fear  on  account  of  his  sarcastic 
disposition,  and  to  that  probably,  as  I  have  said,  he  was  indebted  for 
admission  into  the  Royal  Academy,  and  for  the  situations  in  it  that 
were  conferred  on  him. 

To  return  to  Opie.  He  had  great  power  of  raillery,  and  I  have 
witnessed  a  contest  between  him  and  Dr.  Wolcot,  who  uttered  very 
strong  things,  when  Opie  maintained  his  part  so  well  as  to  render  the 
victory  doubtful.  They  were  neither  of  them  sparing  in  personal 
severity,  but  never  came  to  a  serious  quarrel. 


MRS.  OPIE. 


175 


It  has  been  said  that  Opie  was  slow  in  commending  the  works  of 
his  competitors,  but,  as  far  as  I  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  his 
character,  I  was  induced  to  form  a  contrary  opinion.  I  know  that 
he  bestowed  liberal  praise  on  the  productions  of  the  late  Mr.  Owen, 
and  also  on  those  of  Northcote.  He  always  spoke  in  terms  of  the 
highest  commendation  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  I  remember  that, 
alluding  to  a  scene  painted  by  that  great  artist  from  "  The  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,"  he  expressed  the  utmost  delight  at  the  contemplative 
posture  in  which  Bottom  is  represented  with  the  ass's  head,  leaning 
on  his  arm  in  pensive  meditation.  In  fact,  I  have  heard  him  as  warm 
in  praising  contemporary  productions  in  his  art,  as  in  his  admiration 
of  his  favourite  poets  Shakspeare  and  Dryden. 

It  has  been  observed  also  that  little  has  been  said  respecting  his 
first  wife.  I  knew  her  well,  and  am  disposed  to  speak  more  with 
regret  than  severity  on  the  cause  which  deprived  her  of  her  husband. 
Opie  was  devoted  to  his  art,  to  which  he  chiefly  and  almost  solely 
seemed  to  direct  his  attention.  Re  had  many  visiters,  and  among 
them  some,  perhaps,  who  took  advantage  of  his  professional  absorp- 
tion, and  flattered  his  young  and  agreeable  wife.  She  was  a  pretty 
little  woman,  with  pleasing  and  unaffected  manners.  *  Being  left  much 
to  herself,  and  at  liberty  to  go  abroad  when  and  where  she  pleased,  it 
was  not  wonderful  that,  comparing  the  unavoidable  neglect  of  her 
husband  with  the  persevering  attention  of  a  gallant,  she  should  mani- 
fest the  frailty  of  human  nature.  A  Major  Edwards  was  the  successful 
gallant,  and  after  the  separation  from  Opie  was  legally  confirmed,  he 
married  her,  a  strong  proof  in  support  of  her  expected  fidelity.  He 
died,  and,  as  I  have  heard,  left  her  in  respectable  independence. 
Since  the  death  of  the  major  I  have  heard  that  she  has  constantly 
resided  with  her  brother,  who  holds  some  military  employment,  and 
that  she  always  accompanies  him  wherever  he  may  be  called  by  his 
military  duty.  I  was  well  acquainted  with  her,  and  introduced  my 
former  wife  to  her,  which  assuredly  I  should  not  have  done  if  I  had 
observed  any  incorrectness  of  conduct  or  manners. 

Mr.  Opie's  second  wife  has  rendered  herself  so  conspicuous  in 
society  by  her  literary  talents  and  accomplishments  in  private  life, 
that  no  eulogium  on  my  part  can  add  to  the  general  estimation  in 
which  her  character  is  held.  (  I  knew  her  a  little  before  her  marriage, 
and  saw  in  the  lively  girl  a  promise  of  those  talents  which  have  been 
since  so  much  and  so  deservedly  admired.  She  evinced  her  regard 
for  the  memory  of  her  husband  by  giving  his  remains  an  honourable 
and  splendid  funeral,  which  I  was  invited  to  attend,  among  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  literary  characters  and  eminent  artists  of  the 
time,  and  the  body  was  deposited  in  the  vaults  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 
She  also  employed  the  elder  Mr.  Smirke  to  design  an  appropriate 
memorial,  from  which  an  excellent'print  was  engraved,  and  distributed 
among  the  numerous  friends  and  connexions  who  had  been  invited  to 
the  mournful  ceremony  of  interment.  , 

Such  was  the  close  of  Opie's  life,  a  man  who  raised  himself  into 
merited  distinction  and  comparative  affluence  by  great  original  powers^ 


174 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  who,  if  he  had  possessed  the  advantage  of  being  born  in  a  higher 
station,  and  also  of  having  had  his  mind  cultivated  in  early  life,  would, 
most  probably,  have  distinguished  himself  in  any  province  to  which 
his  talents  might  have  been  directed  that  demanded  the  great  intel- 
lectual energy. 

As  a  proof  that  his  mind  was  of  no  ordinary  cast,  I  have  heard  Mr. 
Northcote,  a  profound  judge  of  human  nature,  say  of  Opie,  that  his 
mind  was  superior  to  that  of  any  other  person  whom  he  ever  knew, 
and  that  all  other  men  were  children  to  him.  As  Opie  was  more 
intimate  with  Northcote  than  with  any  other  person,  and  as  the  latter 
had  full  opportunities  of  estimating  his  character,  the  testimony  of  so 
acute  and  intelligent  a  man  may  well  be  received  without  hesitation. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  can  with  equal  truth  declare,  that  Opie  enter- 
tained the  highest  opinion  of  the  mental  powers  and  professional 
merits  of  Mr.  Northcote,  as  is  evident  from  the  intimate  intercourse 
which  subsisted  between  them,  for  they  were  together  almost  every 
evening  at  each  other's  houses. 

Northcote  had  the  advantage  of  a  good  education,  and  had  improved 
his  mind  by  travelling  to  Rome,  that  great  repository  of  the  arts,  as 
well  as  to  most  places  in  Italy  and  France  celebrated  for  the  posses- 
sion of  graphic  treasures  ;  and  Opie,  with  great  original  powers, 
came  under  the  description  which  Hesiod  gives  of  those  who,  by 
their  own  intellectual  faculties,  can  discern  what  is  right  and  fit  by  a 
kind  of  intuitive  perception.  I  could  say  much  more  on  this  subject, 
but  as  one  of  these  friends  is  living,  I  might,  perhaps,  be  suspected  of 
flattery  to  him,  though  I  can  confidently  declare,  that  in  what  I  have 
said  of  both,  I  have  been  wholly  influenced  by  sincerity  and  con- 
viction. I  may,  however,  say  something  more  of  Mr.  Northcote, 
whom  I  knew  long  before  I  was  acquainted  with  Opie,  and  as  his 
mental  powers  and  professional  merits  are  so  well  known,  I  need  not 
fear  that  I  shall  be  biassed  by  the  zeal  of  friendship. 

As  this  gentleman,  besides  the  advantage  of  foreign  travel,  where 
he  had  abundant  opportunities  of  beholding  and  studying  the  best 
examples  of  graphic  excellence,  was  many  years  under  the  same  roof 
with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  he  must  have  proved  an  enlightened  and 
instructive  companion  to  his  friend  Opie.  The  house  of  Sir  Joshua, 
in  Leicester  Square,  might  well  be  considered  as  the  temple  of 
genius  and  taste.  It  was  visited  by  the  most  distinguished  characters 
of  the  time.  Johnson,  Burke,  Garrick,  Colman,  and  indeed  the 
w-hole  galaxy  of  celebrated  scholars  and  wits  were  its  constant 
visiters.  Mr.  Northcote,  being  long  an  inmate  in  the  house,  and 
bringing  a  mind  capable  of  comprehending  and  sharing  in  the  con- 
versation, must  have  laid  in  intellectual  treasures  of  the  most  valua- 
ble description.  Hence  it  was  impossible  that  Mr.  Opie  could  have 
found  a  friend  and  companion  who  could  have  contributed  more  to 
the  refinement  of  his  taste,  to  the  improvement  of  his  manners,  and 
the  enlargement  of  his  knowledge. 

The  value  of  Mr.  Northcote's  conversation  is  evident  in  a  publica- 


MR.  NORTHCOTE. 


175 


tion  by  the  late  Mr.  Hazlitt,  an  author  of  well-known  merit,  who  has 
detailed  the  opinions  and  remarks  of  the  former  in  a  volume  which  ^ 
must  be  deemed  a  very  interesting  and  instructive  work,  not  only  for 
the  student  in  art,  but  to  the  general  reader.  It  would  not  become 
me  to  obtrude  my  opinion  of  Mr.  Northcote's  professional  merits,  nor 
is  it  necessary,  as  his  reputation  has  long  been  established  by  the  most 
enlightened  judges.  His  success  as  a  portrait-painter  has  been  con- 
siderable, and  has  afforded  him  an  independence  that  enables  him  to 
regard  with  indifference,  if  not  contempt,  the  fluctuations  of  taste  and 
the  caprices  of  fashion.  As  an  historical  painter  he  stands  pre-emi- 
nent among  the  artists  of  this  country  ;  and  if  it  were  not  necessary 
for  those  who  were  not  born  in  the  lap  of  affluence  to  provide  against 
the  instability  of  fortune,  it  might  well  be  regretted,  for  the  sake  of 
the  ornamental  character  of  the  country,  that  he  had  not  confined  his 
genius  wholly  to  historical  composition. 

It  is  gratifying  to  learn  that  many  of  his  historical  paintings  adorn 
private  cabinets,  and  that  many  of  his  altar-pieces  embellish  our 
sacred  edifices ;  and  by  the  appropriate  expression  and  dignity  with 
which  the  respective  subjects  are  treated,  they  may  enforce  the 
doctrines  of  truth,  attract  the  attention  of  the  dissolute,  and  confirm 
the  hopes  of  the  pious. 

Before  I  quit  Mr.  Northcote,  I  will  subjoin  a  copy  of  a  letter  which 
I  received  from  him  soon  after  the  publication  of  my  two  volumes  of 
poems,  as  it  shows  the  intrepid  sincerity  of  the  writer. 

My  dear  Mr.  Taylor, 
1  can  scarcely  find  words  to  express  to  you  my  admiration  of  your 
excellent  prologues  and  epilogues, — so  various,  so  witty,  so  moral,  so 
natural,  and  so  poetic.    I  wish  the  whole  work  had  contained  nothing 
else ;  it  would  then  have  been,  indeed,  a  jewel  of  the  first  water ; 

but  when  you  make  verses  on  Mr.  ,  Mr.  ,  Mr.  Northcote, 

and  Mr.  ,  my  God,  what  a  change  !    I  no  longer  know  the  same 

author.  It  seems  to  me  like  a  change  in  a  farce,  where  we  see  a 
regal  throne  quickly  turned  into  a  wheelbarrow,  &c.  ;  or  as  if  some- 
body had  blown  your  brains  out.  If  ever  you  write  any  more  verses 
upon  me,  pray  suppose  me  to  be  either  a  tragedy  or  a  comedy,  and 
make  a  prologue  or  an  epilogue  for  me ;  and  I  dare  say  that  Mr. 

 and  Mr.  will  join  me  in  my  petition  on  the  occasion.  But 

I  can  easily  account  for  the  great  difference.  When  you  write  a 
prologue  or  an  epilogue,  you  feel  all  the  terror  of  that  powerful  and 
remorseless  beast,  a  full  assembled  audience,  before  your  eyes,  which 
keeps  you  tremblingly  alive  in  fear  of  immediate  public  shame.  But 
when  you  write  verses  to  flatter  a  fool,  you  sleep  over  them,  and 
think  any  thing  is  good  enough.  Wishing  you  much  success  in  your 
publication,  and  in  every  other  way,  I  remain  always, 

My  dear  sir, 
Your  sincere  friend  and  very  humble  servant, 

James  Northcote. 


176 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Pray  remember  to  present  my  most  respectful  compliments  to 
Mrs.  Taylor,  whose  approbation  of  my  picture  of  Christ  gave  me 
real  pleasure,  as  it  was  given  with  so  much  feeling. 

Argyle  Place, 
August  18th,  1827. 

I  insert  this  letter  with  the  permission  of  the  author,  who  would 
readily  have  consented  to  the  introduction  of  the  names  of  the  artists 
referred  to  if  I  could  have  thought  proper. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Mr.  Richard  Owen  Cambridge.  My  intercourse  with  this  gen- 
tleman was  of  so  slight  a  nature,  that  I  can  have  no  reason  to  intro- 
duce him  into  this  work  except  from  my  sincere  respect  for  his  char- 
acter, talents,  attainments,  and  compositions ;  but  he  held  so  high  a 
reputation,  and  upon  such  solid  grounds,  that  it  is  a  kind  of  duty  to 
pay  a  respectful  tribute  to  his  memory.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
introduced  to  him  by  my  old  friend  Dr.  Monsey,  and  of  dining  with 
him  at  the  governor's  table  at  Chelsea  Hospital,  when  there  was 
nobody  present  but  the  doctor,  Mr.  Cambridge,  and  myself.  I  was 
then  well  acquainted  with  the  literary  productions  of  Mr.  Cambridge, 
and  was  therefore  particularly  attentive  to  every  thing  he  said  ;  and 
I  now  sincerely  regret  that  I  had  not,  early  in  life,  conceived  the 
design  of  the  present  work,  for  then  I  should  have  endeavoured  to 
retain  in  my  memory  many  observations  and  events  perhaps  of 
much  greater  importance  than  any  I  have  now  been  able  to  record. 

As  Dr.  Monsey  had  seldom  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Mr.  Cam- 
bridge, and  was*  sufficiently  aware  of  the  value  of  his  guest,  he  gave 
the  rein  of  conversation  entirely  to  "him,  and  was  as  attentive  as  my- 
self. Part  of  the  conversation  passed  on  the  politics  of  the  day,  but 
was  soon  transferred  to  literary  topics,  which  seemed  to  be  the 
favourite  subjects  with  Mr.  Cambridge.  Unhappily,  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  the  world  have  demanded  too  much  of  my  attention  to 
admit  of  accurate  recollections  of  innumerable  circumstances  which 
have  occurred  in  the  course  of  a  long-protracted  life.  But  I  deem 
it  an  honour  to  have  known  Mr.  Cambridge,  and  am  proud  of  the 
opportunity  of  introducing  his  name  on  the  present  occasion. 

I  remember  that  in  speaking  of  Don  Quixote,  he  declared  he  con- 
sidered it  one  of  the  greatest  productions  of  the  human  mind,  and 
supported  his  opinions  with  reasons  which  it  would  be  much  for 
my  advantage  if  I  could  recollect.  He  seemed  to  think  that  Gold- 
smith had  been  overrated  as  a  poet,  but  spoke  very  favourably  of 
his  prose  works.  He  said  he  thought  the  best  lines  in  all  Gold- 
smith's poetical  works  were  his  character  of  Garrick  in  "  Retalia- 


V 


MR.  CAMBRIDGE.  177 

tion,"  as  nicely  discriminated,  humorously  combined,  and  admirably 
appropriate." 

Dr.  Monsey,  with  whom  Mr.  Cambridge's  poem  of  "  The  Scrib- 
bleriad"  was  a  great  favourite,  mentioned  it  with  high  praise,  and  ex- 
pressed his  surprise  that  it  was  not  more  a  favourite  with  the  world 
at  large.  Mr.  Cambridge  spoke  of  it  modestly,  as  a  work  that  had 
given  him  little  trouble,  and  said  that  it  was  chiefly  composed  while 
he  was  under  the  hands  of  his  hairdresser.  The  remark  of  the  doc- 
tor, whether  suggested  on  that  or  any  other  occasion,  induced  Mr. 
Cambridge  to  send  him  the  following  jeu  d'esp'rit,  which  I  insert  with 
pleasure,  as  it  is  so  complimentary  to  the  taste  and  judgment  of  my 
old  friend,  who  was  himself  an  excellent  humorous  poet. 

• 

TO  DOCTOR  MONSEY, 

Physician  to  Chelsea  Hosjrital, 

Upon  his  expressing  his  surprise  that  "  The  Scribblenad"  was  not  more  known  and 

talked  of. 

Dear  doctor,  did  you  ever  hear  I  had 

So  piqued  myself  on  "  The  Scribbleriad," 

That  every  pensioner  of  Chelsea 

The  learning  and  the  wit  should  well  see  ? 

Enough  for  me  if  only  one  see, 

But  let  that  one  be  Doctor  Monsey. 

It  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  justice  to  u  The  Scribbleriad,"  which 
is  really  a  work  not  only  of  "  learning  and  wit,"  to  use  the  words  of 
the  author,  but  of  rare  and  profound  learning,  as  well  as  of  great 
humour  and  poetical  merit.  The  object  is  to  ridicule  false  learning, 
absurd  inventions,  superstition,  and  the  general  follies  of  mankind. 
It  is  little  creditable  to  the  taste  of  the  public  that  such  a  work  should 
not  have  become  popular,  and  it  may  fairly  be  said,  that  the  fault  is 
not  the  want  of  any  intellectual  power  in  the  author,  but  in  the  igno- 
rance and  want  of  taste  in  the  readers. 

When  Archdeacon  Cambridge  published  the  life  and  works  of 
his  venerable  father,  there  appeared  in  a  certain  northern  vehicle 
of  criticism,  remarkable  for  vanity  and  dashing  audacity,  a  very  flip- 
pant account  of  the  publication..  It  was  my  intention  to  have  written 
an  answer  to  this  frivolous  and  unjust  attack  upon  the  works  of  so 
accomplished  a  scholar  and  so  excellent  a  poet  as  Mr.  Cambridge  ; 
but  reflecting  that  I  was  no  match  for  the  young  gentlemen  that  were 
then  reported  to  be  the  conductors  of  that  source  of  northern  aspe- 
rity, self-conceit,  and  censorious  violence,  and  that  the  archdeacon's 
tribute  of  filial  respect  to  the  memory  of  his  father  was  a  substantial 
monument  of  parental  excellence  that  time  could  not  impair,  I  de- 
sisted from  the  rash  undertaking. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Cambridge  a  second  time,  and 
the  conversation  chiefly  related  to  Dr.  Monsey.  I  afterward,  for 
the  last  time,  saw  him  walking  arm  in  arm  with  Lord  North,  then 


178 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


prime  minister,  who  seemed  very  attentive  to  him,  and  to  be  laughing 

at  something  which  he  was  saying. 

My  late  friend  Mr.  Jerningham  related  to  me  the  following 
whimsical  anecdote,  but  did  not  vouch  for  the  truth  of  it.  Mr.  Cam- 
bridge had  observed  the  following  inscription  over  a  hatter's  shop 
just  as  the  painter  had  finished  the  letters — "  Good  hats  sold  here." 
Crossing  the  way,  and  making  a  suitable  apology,  he  politely  addressed 
the  master  of  the  shop,  observing  that  he  hoped  he  would  excuse  his 
making  a  remark  on  the  inscription.  The  hatter  said  he  should  be 
much  obliged  to  him,  and  desired  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say.  "  Why," 
said  Mr.  Cambridge,  "  the  word  '  good'  seems  unnecessary ;  for  if  you 
did  not  sell  good  hats,  no  customer  would  come  again."  "  True," 
said  the  hatter.  "  Pairfter  !  rub  out  good.  Pray,  sir,  have  you  any 
thing  more  to  say  ? — I  beseech  you  go  on."  "  Why;"  said  Mr.  Cam- 
bridge, "  the  word  1  hats'  is  certainly  needless  ;  for  if  people  looked  at 
your  shop-window,  and  saw  nothing  but  hats,  they  would  not  expect 
to  buy  meat,  or  any  thing  but  hats."  "  True,  again,"  said  the  man. 
"Painter!  rub  out  hats.  Well,  sir,  is  all  right  now?"  "No,  cer- 
tainly," rejoined  Mr.  Cambridge  ;  "  the  word  '  sold'  would  be  ridicu- 
lous if  it  were  to  remain,  for  nobody  would  expect  you  to  give  away 
your  hats."  "Very  true,"  said  the  man.  "  Painter,  rub  out  sold  ;" 
adding,  "  Now,  sir,  I  suppose  you  have  no  farther  objection."  "  Yes, 
one  more,"  said  Mr.  Cambridge  ;  "  the  word  '  here'  is  perfectly  absurd 
by  itself,  for  nobody  would  go  to  another  shop  to  buy  your  hats." 
"  Quite  right,"  said  the  man.  "  Painter !  rub  out  here;"  and  then  he 
courteously  thanked  Mr.  Cambridge  for  his  kindness. 

Mr.  James  Cobb.  Perhaps  there  never  existed  an  individual  who 
was  more  respected,  or  who  more  deserved  respect,  within  his  sphere 
of  action,  than  this  gentleman.  From  his  entrance  as  a  clerk  in  the 
East  India  House,  through  all  his  official  gradations  till  he  became 
secretary  to  the  Honourable  East  India  Company,  he  conciliated  all 
who  knew  him  by  the  mildness  of  his  manners  and  the  benevolence 
of  his  disposition ;  and  a  line  from  Pope  has  been  justly  applied  to 
him  as  the  reason  why  he  was  so  much  esteemed: — 

Because  he's  honest  and  the  best  of  friends. 

He  possessed  talents  that  would  have  enabled  him  to  make  a  dis- 
tinguished figure  in  any  superior  station.  His  dramatic  works  may 
be  referred  to  as  evident  proofs  of  his  literary  talents  ;  and  though 
all  of  them  succeeded  and  gave  popularity  to  his  name,  no  degree  of 
public  favour  could  inflate  him  with  vanity,  or  lessen  that  modesty 
which  was  an  essential  feature  of  his  character.  But  his  modesty 
was  perfectly  consistent  with  a  manly  spirit,  which  exerted  itself  in 
company  with  humour  and  intelligence.  He  was  fond  of  the  stage, 
and  though  he  produced  many  dramatic  works,  they  were  all  the 
effusions  of  his  leisure. 

He  told  me  that  Mr.  Burke  advised  him,  in  all  his  dramatic  com- 
positions,, to  study  the  dialogue  of  "  Vanbrugh,"  and  he  doubtless 


MR.  JAMES  COBB  MR.  PKIKOE  HOAIIE.  179 

"would  have  followed  the  counsel  of  so  high  an  authority,  if  his  pro- 
ductions had  not  been  of  a  different  kind  from  those  of  that  cele- 
brated dramatist.  He  was  fond  of  music,  and  sung  with  great  taste 
and  impressive  spirit.  How  well  he  could  blend  heroic  with 
humorous  characters,  and  supply  suitable  and  appropriate  dialogue 
to  both,  is  evident  in  his  "  Siege  of  Belgrade,"  and  his  "  Haunted 
Tower." 

His  farces  are  marked  by  humour  without  extravagance,  and  his 
songs  are  characterized  by  sentiment,  lyrical  elegance,  and  pure 
humour,  according  to  the  subject.  At  the  desire  of  Mr.  Sheridan, 
he  wrote  a  prelude  on  the  removal  of  the  Drury-lane  company  of 
actors  to  the  King's  Theatre,  preparatory  to  the  rebuilding  of  the 
former.  This  prelude  was  written,  but  one  whimsical  stroke  was 
introduced  by  Mr.  Sheridan.  One  of  the  characters,  describing  the 
difficulty  of  removing  the  scenes,  &c,  from  Drury-lane  Theatre,  said 
that  there  was  so  pelting  a  storm  in  Chandos-street,  that  they  were 
obliged  "  to  carry  the  rain  under  an  umbrella." 

I  could  say  more  with  strict  justice,  in  favour  of  this  gentleman, 
but  his  character  is  so  amply  and  so  justly  portrayed  in  "  A  History 
of  the  Clubs  of  London,"  admirably  written,  and  attributed  to  Mr. 
March,  a  barrister,  and  formerly  in  parliament,  whom  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  knowing,  that  1  must  refer  the  reader  to  that  work  for  a 
spirited  and  faithful  portrait  of  my  esteemed  and  lamented  friend 
James  Cobb. 

Mr.  Prince  Hoare.  It  is  difficult  to  render  even  ordinary  justice 
to  living  merit  without  incurring  the  suspicion  of  being  influenced  by 
partiality,  or  by  motives  of  a  less  honourable  nature.  Yet,  as  what 
I  shall  say  of  this  gentleman,  whose  friendship  I  have  enjoyed  for 
nearly  forty  years,  and  still  possess  in  unabated  cordiality,  will  be  sup- 
ported by  all  who  are  acquainted  with  him,  I  am  under  no  appre- 
hension of  suffering  by  the  suggestions  of  malice. 

Mr.  Prince  Hoare  is  the  son  of  Mr.  Hoare,  who  was  one  of  the 
original  members  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  the  most  eminent  por- 
trait-painter in  crayons  of  his  time.  Indeed  this  is  too  limited  a  tribute 
to  his  merit,  for  his  excellence  in  crayon  painting  can  never  perhaps 
be  excelled,  though  it  possibly  may  be  equalled.  Mr.  Prince  Hoare 
has  a  portrait  by  his  father  of  Alexander  Pope,  in  oil-painting,  which 
evidently  proves  that  if  the  skilful  artist  had  devoted  himself  to  that, 
province  of  his  profession,  he  might  have  risen  to  the  same  height  of 
reputation  as  he  attained  with  his  favourite  crayons. 

His  son,  Mr.  Prince  Hoare,  is  a  compound  character  of  the  most 
extraordinary  description.  Nature  has  endowed  him  with  great 
talents,  which  he  has  improved  by  study  and  by  travel.  His  taste 
originally  impelled  him  to  pursue  the  profession  of  his  father,  not  as 
a  painter  in  crayons,  but  on  canvass ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  felt 
an  equal  propensity  towards  literary  pursuits  ;  and  delicacy  of  health 
induced  him  at  length  to  prefer  the  serene  enjoyment  of  literary 
retirement,  which  the  wealth  and  affection  of  his  father  enabled  him 
readily  to  indulge.    Prince  Hoare  therefore,  sanctioned  by  parental 


180 


IlKCORDS  OP  MY  LIFE* 


authority  and  indulgence,  was  prompted  to  relinquish  all  graphic  am- 
bition, and  resign  himself  to  studious  contemplation  rather  than 
continue  a  practical  but  laborious  pursuit  of  the  fine  arts  :  he  conse- 
quently devoted  himself  to  literature. 

As  a  proof  that  there  is  an  extraordinary  mixture  of  qualities  in 
his  character,  he  is  witty  and  humorous  in  a  high  degree  in  his 
literary  compositions,  though  serious  in  his  conduct.  His  dramatic 
productions  abound  almost  to  extravagance  in  humour,  while  his 
deportment  in  private  life,  though  lively  and  playful  when  the 
occasion  is  suitable,  is  always  moral,  pious,  and  without  ostentation, 
perceptive  and  exemplary.  His  critical  powers  are  judicious  and 
acute. 

I  remember  that  when  a  controversy  arose  between  the  Rev.  W. 
L.  Bowles,  who  seems  to  be  too  anxious  to  see  his  name  in  public, 
and  Lord  Byron,  on  the  genius  of  Pope,  and  a  pamphlet  was  pro- 
duced on  both  sides,  Mr.  Hoare,  in  a  conversation  with  me  on  the 
subject,  observed,  that  his  lordship  had  liberally  supported  the  learn- 
ing and  genius  of  the  poet  in  moral  and  poetical  subjects,  but  had 
cautiously  avoided  all  particular  notice  of  his  satirical  powers,  as  they 
were  the  only  qualities  that  could  be  brought  in  comparison  with  his 
own.  As  Mr.  Hoare  could  have  no  personal  interest  in  the  contro- 
versy, I  was  struck  by  the  originality  and  shrewdness,  as  well  as 
candour  of  this  observation,  and  in  justice  to  him  venture  to  record 
it  here.  For  fear  that  I  should,  in  the  warmth  of  friendship,  subject 
myself  to  the  imputation  of  motives  which  I  disdain,  I  will  here  con- 
clude, after  acknowledging  myself  indebted  to  Mr.  Hoare's  kindness, 
with  subjoining  what  my  late  friend  Mr.  George  Dance,  the  cele- 
brated architect,  says  of  him  in  his  "  Collection  of  Contemporary 
Portraits,"  annexed  to  his  likeness  of  Mr.  Prince  Hoare. 

"  Prince  Hoare,  author  of  various  dramatic  and  other  writings. 
Born  and  educated  at  Bath  ;  instructed  in  painting  by  his  father, 
William  Hoare,  one  of  the  original  members  of  the  Royal  Academy. 
He  went  to  Italy  for  the  farther  acquirement  of  his  art,  and  studied 
at  Rome  under  Mengs ;  but  after  his  return,  through  infirm  health, 
declined  the  profession.  The  following  are  his  dramatic  productions, 
of  which  a  few  only  are  published: — 'Julia,  or  such  Things  were;' 
— traged}'.  'Indiscretion;'  'Sighs,  or  the  Daughter;'  'The  Part- 
ners;'— comedies.  'No  Song  no  Supper;'  'The  Cave  of  Tropho- 
nius  ;'  1  Dido  ;'  '  The  Prize  ;'  '  My  Grandmother  ;'  '  Three  and  the 
Deuce;'  'Lock  and  Key;'  'Mahmoud;'  'The  Friend  in  Need;' 
*  The  Captive  of  Spilberg ;' '  Italian  Villagers ;' '  Chains  of  the  Heart ;' 
— musical  pieces. 

"  In  consequence  of  succeeding,  in  1799,  to  the  honorary  appoint- 
ment of  secretary  for  foreign  correspondence  to  the  Royal  Aca- 
demy, he  published  '  Academic  Annals  of  Paintings,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture,'  a  work  since  continued  by  the  academy  at  successive 
periods  ;  and  shortly  afterward,  'An  Inquiry  into  the  Requisite  Cul- 
tivation and  Present  State  of  the  Arts  of  Design  in  England.'  '  The 
Artist,'  a  collection  of  essays,  written  chiefly  by  professional  persons, 
(to  which  he  contributed  several  papers),  is  edited  by  him. 


MR.  PRINCE  HOARE — MAJOR  GROSE. 


181 


u  In  1813  he  published  '  Epochs  of  Art,'  containing  historical  ob- 
servations on  the  uses  and  progress  of  painting  and  sculpture.  This 
last  work  is  dedicated  to  the  prince  regent.  He  is  author  of  a  little 
piece  entitled  4  Love's  Victims,'  and  some  tracts  of  a  moral  ten- 
dency."   So  far  Mr.  Dance. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  writing  the  epilogue  to  "  Indiscretion,"  and 
the  prologue  to  "  Sighs,  or  the  Daughter,"  and  was  not  a  little  grati- 
fied in  being  thought  worthy  of  adding  my  metrical  mites  to  the  pro- 
ductions of  so  elegant  a  writer.  Besides  the  works  above  enumerated 
by  Mr.  Dance,  Mr.  Prince  Hoare  in  1820  published  "  Memoirs  of  the 
late  Granville  Sharpe,  Esq.,"  a  gentleman  universally  esteemed  for  his 
learning,  piety,  and  political  rectitude.  I  shall  now  take  leave  of  the 
subject,  which  I  have  been  inclined  to  prolong  because  I  have  found 
Mr.  Prince  Hoare  the  warmest  and  most  estimable  of  my  friends. 

Here  I  intended  to  take  leave  of  my  friend  Prince  Hoare,  but  it 
would  be  unjust  indeed  if  I  were  to  omit  noticing  his  last  production, 
which  not  only  illustrates  the  extraordinary  combination  of  his  intel- 
lectual powers  and  pursuits,  but  his  strong  sense  of  religion,  and  desire 
of  promoting  the  happiness  of  mankind.  In  the  year  1825  he  pub- 
lished a  tract  entitled  "  Easter  :  a  companion  to  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer."  This  small  but  valuable  work  is  a  manual  explanatory  of 
all  the  Latin  words  and  phrases,  and  other  appropriate  terms  of  the 
church  service,  with  other  matters  essential  to  the  due  comprehen- 
sion of  its  important  subject.  In  this  interesting  and  learned  work, 
which  would  do  honour  to  any  ecclesiastical  authority,  he  has  modestly 
suppressed  his  name,  and  published  it  under  the  simple  designation  of 
P  A  Layman." 

Major  Grose.  I  have  before  mentioned  this  gentleman  incident- 
ally, but  his  character  deserves  a  more  direct  notice.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  jocose,  intelligent,  and  entertaining  companions  with  whom 
it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to  meet.  He  was  remarkably  fat,  and 
there  was  a  drawing  of  him  made  by  Mr.  Nathaniel  Dance,  after- 
ward Sir  Nathaniel  Holland,  which  is  admirably  drawn,  and  a  very 
strong  and  characteristic  likeness.  He  told  me,  as  a  specimen  of 
Irish  humour,  that  passing  through  St.  Patrick's  Market,  Dublin,  a 
butcher,  attracted  by  his  portly  form,  approached  him,  and  patting 
him  on  the  breast,  said,  with  laughing  freedom, "  Arrah,  say  you  bought 
your  beef  of  me." 

Major  Grose  was  the  author  of  innumerable  works  of  humour, 
which  were  justly  admired,  but  the  chief  of  them  was,  "  Advice  to 
the  Officers  of  the  Army,"  in  the  manner  of  Swift's  "Advice  to  Ser- 
vants." The  major  was  of  a  very  kind  and  friendly  disposition,  and 
permitted  a  Captain  Williamson  to  assume  the  merit  of  having  written 
this  work,  though  it  was  previously  well  known  by  his  private  friends 
that  it  was  his  own  production.  I  knew  that  if  I  asked  him  directly 
whether  he  w  as  the  author,  he  wrould  evade  the  question,  or  not  give 
me  a  satisfactory  answer.  I  therefore  expressed  my  surprise  that,  as 
the  fact  was  known,  he  would  suffer  another  to  usurp  his  reputa- 
tion.   He  said  that  Williamson  was  a  person  of  literary  talents,  with- 


182 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


out  any  friends  to  promote  his  views  in  life,  and  therefore,  as  he  did 
not  want  the  reputation  arising  from  a  work  of  that  kind,  he  willingly 
resigned  it  in  favour  of  a  young  man  with  scanty  means  and  no  pro- 
mising protection. 

I  knew  Williamson,  and  from  what  I  observed  of  his  character 
■and  talents,  considered  him  as  capable  of  grave  political  discussion, 
but  without  any  indication  of  the  wit  and  humour  which  abound  in 
Ihe  work  in  question.  This  work  has  been  ascribed  to  the  late  Mar- 
quis Townshend,  who  was  celebrated  for  his  satirical  powers,  but  they 
were  chiefly  exercised  in  graphic  caricatures  and  convivial  conversa- 
tion. My  friend  Colonel  Sir  Ralph  Hamilton  is  positively  convinced 
that  the  real  author  was  Lord  Townshend  ;  but  with  all  respect  for 
his  talents,  opinions,  and  opportunities,  I  am  equally  convinced  that 
it  was  the  production  of  my  old  facetious  friend  Major  Grose.  It  is 
not  improbable  that  as  Sir  Ralph  was  intimate  with  Lord  Town- 
shend, and  had  a  high  opinion  of  his  lordship's  powers,  he  credited 
the  report  with  the  credulity  of  friendship. 

It  has  been  said  in  support  of  Lord  Townshend's  claim,  that  Major 
Grose  was  only  a  militia  officer,  and  not.  likely  to  obtain  a  know- 
ledge of  all  the  tricks,  artifices,  and  abuses  so  humorously  detailed  in 
this  work  ;  but  Grose  was  a  man  of  great  research  and  observation, 
and  it  is  more  probable  that  he  should  obtain  the  requisite  informa- 
tion than  a  nobleman  of  high  rank  as  an  officer,  from  whom  such  in- 
formation would  be  studiously  concealed,  or  whose  notice  it  would 
probably  have  escaped,  even  with  active  inquiry  on  his  part.  But 
rumour  only  assigns  the  work  to  Lord  Townshend,  and  that  supposi- 
tion is  chiefly,  if  not  wholly,  confined  to  military  people  ;  while  the 
world  at  large  ascribes  it  to  Major  Grose,  who  was  a  man  of  indis- 
putable veracity,  and  who  acknowledged  himself  to  be  the  author. 

Major  Grose  told  me  that  when  he  was  quartered  in  Dublin,  he 
ordered  an  Irish  sergeant  to  exercise  the  men  in  shooting  at  a  mark. 
The  sergeant  had  placed  a  pole  for  them  to  take  aim,  stationing  a 
certain  number  on  one  side,  and  an  equal  number  on  the  other,  in 
direct  opposition.  The  major  happened  to  reach  the  spot  just  as 
they  were  going  to  fire,  stopped  them,  and  expressed  his  surprise 
that  the  sergeant  should  have  placed  them  in  so  dangerous  a  position, 
as  they  must  necessarily  wound,  if  not  kill  each  other.  "  Kill  each 
other  !"  said  the  sergeant,  "  why,  they  are  all  our  own  men."  As  the 
men  so  contentedly  remained  in  the  dangerous  position,  it  may  be  in- 
ferred that  they  were  as  wise  as  the  sergeant.  This  story  illustrates 
that  of  Lord  Thomond's  cocks,  which,  when  the  keeper  let  loose,  were 
fighting  each  other, — much  to  his  surprise,  he  said,  as  they  belonged  to 
one  person,  and  were  "  all  on  the  same  side." 

The  last  time  I  saw  the  major  was  at  the  apartments  of  my  old 
friend  the  Rev.  Mr.  Penneck.  The  major  lamented  that  he  had  for- 
gotten to  leave  a  message  at  his  lodgings  in  Holborn.  1  told  him 
that  I  was  going  home  to  my  house  in  Hatton  Garden,  and  if  he 
would  write  a  note,  I  would  run  with  it  in  my  way  home.    "  Ob ! 


MR.  PYE" — MR.  BARFOIID.  183 

pray  do  not  run  with  it,"  said  the  unwieldy  wag,  "  for  then  I  can 
never  return  the  obligation  in  kind" 

Mr.  Henry  James  Pye.  This  gentleman,  who  was  fully  qualified 
for  the  situation  of  poet-laureat  by  profound  learning  and  poetical 
genius,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  many  years,  and  though  my- 
self incompetent  to  offer  any  remarks  on  his  "  Birthday  Odes,"  and 
those  on  the  "  New  Year,"  yet  he  paid  me  the  compliment  of  asking 
my  opinion,  and  sometimes  condescended  to  adopt  my  suggested 
emendations.  His  translation  of  the  "  Poetic  of  Aristotle"  is,  I  am 
assured,  faithful  and  spirited. 

Having  heard  that  the  late  Mr.  Kemble  had  made  some  marginal 
remarks  on  that  translation,  he  requested  me  to  tell  the  latter  that  he 
should  be  happy  to  present  him  with  another  copy  of  the  work,  if  he 
would  let  him  have  that  which  was  most  probably  amended  by  his 
remarks.  I  did  so  of  course,  but  whether  the  exchange  was  made  I 
know  not,  and  I  only  mention  the  matter  to  show  in  what  respect 
Mr.  Pye  held  the  judgment  and  knowledge  of  my  friend  Kemble. 

Mr.  Pye  was  an  upright  magistrate,  and  a  good  poet  as  well  as  a 
good  scholar,  as  he  has  abundantly  proved  by  his  various  productions. 
His  epic  poem  of  Alfred  may  be  said  to  breathe  the  true  spirit  of 
poetry,  as  well  as  to  evince  a  judicious  conception  of  character.  I 
believe  he  wrote  but  one  dramatic  piece,  to  which  he  did  me  the 
honour  of  asking  me  to  write  the  epilogue.  I  did  so,  proud  to  have 
my  name  associated  with  that  of  a  man  of  such  genius,  learning,  and 
worth.  I  intended  it  for  Mrs.  Siddons  to  deliver,  but  it  was  too  much 
after  performing  the  heroine  of  the  piece,  and  was  well  spoken  by 
Miss  Mellon,  now  Duchess  of  St.  Alban's. 

Mr.  Pye  also  proved  himself  a  philosopher.  He  was  once  a  mem- 
ber of  parliament  for  Berkshire,  in  which  county  he  was  said  to  possess 
an  estate  eighteen  miles  in  circumference  ;  yet,  after  his  generous 
and  munificent  disposition  had  deprived  him  of  it,  he  was  content  to 
live  in  a  simple  cottage  upon  grounds  which  had  once  been  his  own. 
He  was  a  zealous  friend  and  an  annual  contributor  of  a  poetical 
tribute  to  that  admirable  institution,  The  Literary  Fund,  but  an  im- 
pediment in  his  speech  prevented  him  from  animating  it  by  his  own 
recitation. 

Mr.  Barford,  whom  I  have  before  mentioned  as  connected  with 
.Moody,  was  a  very  worthy,  good-natured  man.  He  was,  I  believe, 
an  upholsterer  by  profession,  and  an  agent  for  some  liquor  company, 
whose  interests  he  supported  with  great  zeal  and  activity.  He  was 
in  great  intimacy  with  a  gentleman  of  large  fortune  who'  had  retired 
from  business.  This  gentleman  liked  Barford  as  a  companion, 
and  used  frequently  to  give  him  an  airing  in  his  carriage,  but  when 
he  had  occasion  to  call  on  a  friend,  he  would  not  permit  Barford  to 
alight  with  him,  lest  he  should  take  the  opportunity  of  pressing 
the  interest  of  the  liquor  company.  At  one  of  these  visits,  while 
Barford  remained  in  the  carriage,  he  stretched  himself  frequently 
through  the  window,  for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  notice  of  the 
gentleman  of  the  house,  who  at  length  came  forth,  and  requested 


184 


K£CORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Barford  to  enter.  The  latter,  however,  knew  that  by  so  doing  he 
should  displease  the  friend  whom  he  had  accompanied,  and  therefore 
declined  the  invitation.  Barford  continued  to  stretch  forward  as  be- 
fore, and  drew  out  the  gentleman  of  the  house  again,  who  then  said, 
if  he  would  not  alight,  he  would  probably  take  some  refreshment. 
Barford  readily  assented,  and  reflecting  upon  what  the  gentleman'  was 
least  likely  to  have  in  the  cellar,  requested  a  glass  of  brown  stout. 
The  gentleman  expressed  his  regret  that,  though  he  was  well  pro- 
vided with  most  other  liquors,  he  did  not  happen  to  have  any  brown 
stout.  "  No  brown  stout !"  said  Barford,  with  affected  astonishment, 
finding  that  he  had  effected  his  purpose ;  "  Sir,  if  you  will  give  me  an 
order,  I  will  send  you  any  quantity  of  the  best  in  England."  Bar- 
ford's  success  in  many  overtures  of  the  same  kind  tempted  him  to 
persevere,  and  he  was  thus  essentially  useful  to  the  company  of 
which  he  was  the  agent. 

The  celebrated  Earl  of  Bath  was  anxious  one  night  to  prolong  the 
sitting  of  a  jovial  company,  and  when  one  of  his  guests  adverted  to 
the  lateness  of  the  hour  which  the  watchman  was  calling,  "  Pooh," 
said  his  lordship,  "do  not  mind  that  fellow,  he  is  never  in  the  same 
story  an  hour  together."  During  the  absence  of  the^same  nobleman 
from  town,  his  lady  had  ordered  the  white  shelves  in  his  library  to  be 
painted  the  colour  of  mahogany.  His  lordship,  on  observing  the 
change,  said  to  the  lady,  "  Well,  my  friends  will  now  generally  find 
me  in  a  brown  study." 

The  celebrated  Mrs.  Woffington,  who  had  lived  with  Garrick, 
afterward  lived  with  Lord  Darnley,  who  fancied  that  he  could  attach 
her  to  him  by  more  than  interested  motives,  if  he  kept  her  from  the 
sight  of  Garrick,  whom  she  professed  to  have  really  loved.  Lord 
Darnley  therefore  exacted  a  promise  from  her,  that  she  would  not 
see  Garrick  during  his  absence  from  town,  freely  permitting  her  to 
see  anybody  else.    He  however  thought  proper  to  have  a  spy  to 
watch  her,  and  found,  that  notwithstanding  her  promise,  Garrick 
visited  her  in  his  absence.    He  took  the  first  opportunity  of  telling 
her  he  had  thought  he  could  depend  on  her  promise,  but  found  he 
was  mistaken,  accusing  her  of  having  seen  Garrick.    "  Garrick !" 
said  she,  thinking  that  what  he  said  arose  from  mere  jealousy,  "  I  have 
not  seen  him  for  a  long  time."    Lord  Darnley  then  declared  he  knew 
she  had  seen  Garrick  the  night  before.    Finding  evasion  useless,  she 
exclaimed,  "  Well !  and  is  not  that  a  long  time  ?"    She  was  a  per- 
fidious woman.    She  lived  till  her  death  with  General  Csesar,  and 
they  had  agreed  that  the  survivor  should  possess  all  the  property  of 
both;  but  when  she  was  really  on  her  death-bed,  she  sent  for  an 
attorney,  made  her  will  during  the  absence  of  the  general,  and  be- 
queathed the  whole  of  her  property  to  her  sister  Mrs.  Cholmondeley. 
Lord  Cholmondeley,  whose  nephew  had  married  Mrs.  Wofiington's 
sister,  was  much  offended  at  what  he  considered  a  degrading  union 
in  the  family ;  but,  on  being  introduced  to  Mrs.  Woffington  some 
months  after  the  match,  he  was  so  much  pleased  with  her,  that  he 
declared,  though  he  had  been  at  first  offended  at  the  match,  he  was 


GARRICK  AND  BERENGER. 


185 


then  reconciled  to  it.  Mrs.  Woffington,  who  had  educated  and  sup- 
ported her  sister,  coldly  answered,  "  My  lord,  I  have  much  more 
reason  to  be  offended  at  it  than  your  lordship,  for  I  had  before  but 
one  beggar  to  maintain,  and  now  I  have  two." 

I  was  once  in  company  with  her  sister,  Mrs.  Cholmondeley,  who 
seemed  to  think  herself  a  wit,  endeavoured  to  monopolize  the  con- 
versation, and  evidently  betrayed  the  vulgarity  of  her  origin.  Mrs. 
Woffington,  in  her  infancy,  was  actually  one*  of  the  children  who 
were  appended  to  the  feet  of  Madame  Violante,  a  famous  dancer  on 
the  tight  rope  in  Dublin.  This  fact  I  learned  from  the  late  Duke  of 
Leeds,  who  told  me  he  had  been  assured  of  it  by  Mr.  King,  the  cele- 
brated comic  actor. 

Garrick  has  been  represented  by  his  enemies  as  a  mean  man,  but 
I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  relate  a  striking  proof  of  his  benevolence. 
Mr.  Berenger,  who  was  deputy-master  of  the  horse,  was  a  particular 
friend  of  Garrick.    He  was  a  man  of  learning,  of  elegant  manners, 
and  of  literary  talents.    I  believe  he  wrote  a  treatise  on  Equitation, 
and  published  a  small  volume  of  poems.    There  is  a  cento  on  Shak- 
speare,  possessing  more  than  ordinary  merit,  as  it  appears  in  Dodsley's 
"  Collection  of  Poems."    Being  a  gentleman  of  fashionable  habits, 
and  living  chiefly  with  people  of  rank,  his  expenses  far  exceeded  his 
income,  and  he  was  obliged  to  confine  himself  to  his  official  house  in 
the  King's  Mews,  which  was  then  a  privileged  place.    His  friends 
lamented  the  loss  of  so  accomplished  a  companion,  and  by  Garrick's 
instigation,  entered  into  a  subscription  to  compound  with  the  holders 
of  his  bonds  and  notes,  the  apprehension  of  whom  had  induced  him 
to  keep  at  home.    The  subscription  was  so  ample,  that  under  the 
management  of  Garrick,  who  understood  the  business  better  than  the 
rest  of  the  subscribers,  Berenger  was  released  from  all  his  difficulties ; 
and  on  the  first  day  that  he  could  safely  venture  abroad,  Garrick,  who 
had  been  a  liberal  subscriber,  gave  a  grand  dinner  in  honour  of  his 
release.    When  the  company  were  assembled  before  dinner,  Gar- 
rick, addressing  Berenger,  told  him  that  his  restoration  to  his  friends 
was  a  subject  of  so  much  gratification  to  them,  that  there  ought  to 
be  afeu-de-joie  on  the  occasion.    He  then  brought  forward  all  the 
notes  and  bonds  which  had  been  purchased  of  the  creditors,  and  said, 
"  I'll  have  the  honour  of  setting  it  a-light."    He  immediately  threw 
them  into  the  grate,  and  set  the  pile  on  fire,  together  with  a  bond  of 
500/.  for  which  Berenger  was  indebted  to  him.    Other  proofs  of  the 
liberality  of  his  disposition  are  well  known,  and  as  my  old  friend 
Donaldson  said  in  an  epitaph  which  he  wrote  on  Garrick's  death, — 
if  he  was  saving,  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  himself  to  be 
generous.    Yet  this  is  the  man  who  was  generally  taxed  with 
avarice.* 

*  Mr.  Berenger  wrote  the  following  lines  on  the  comparative  effects  of  the  perform- 
ance of  King  Lear  by  Garrick  and  Barry  : 

The  town  has  found  out  different  ways 

To  praise  the  different  Lears  ; 
To  Barry  it  gives  loud  huzzas, 
^  To  Garrick  only  tears. 


186 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mrs.  Porter,  a  celebrated  actress  in  the  time  of  Colley  Cibber, 
was  one  night  performing  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  the  tragedy  of  "  The 
Earl  of  Essex,"  before  Queen  Anne.  The  queen,  happening  to  drop 
her  fan  on  the  stage,  Mrs.  Porter,  with  great  dignity,  and  in  the  full 
spirit  of  the  character  she  was  representing,  immediately  addressed 
one  of  the  performers,  and  with  a  commanding  aspect  said,  "Take 
up  our  sister's  fan/'    The  audience  received  this  sally  with  great 

I  have  seen  both  of  these  celebrated  performers  in  that  character,  and  can  attest 
the  truth  of  the  lines,  for  young  as  I  was,  I  well  remember  that  at  Garrick's  repre- 
sentation of  the  part,  white  handkerchiefs  were  seen  among  the  ladies  in  every  box. 
I  remember  also,  that  though  Barry's  fine  figure  and  dignified  deportment  excited 
great  applause,  there  was  no  such  appearance  of  sympathizing  tenderness  ;  and 
having  previously  seen  Garrick,  Barry's  Lear  appeared  to  me  cold  and  tame  in  com- 
parison. The  contest  between  Garrick  and  Barry  in  Romeo,  of  which,  with  all 
their  respective  excellence,  the  town  grew  tired,  occasioned  the  following  epigram, 
which  appeared  in  one  of  the  newspapers,  and  I  understood  run  through  the  others, 
for  the  struggle  took  place  long  before  my  time. 

Well!  what  to-night?  says  angry  Ned, 

As  up  from  bed  he  rouses, 
Romeo  again  !  and  shakes  his  head, 

Ah  !  plague  on  both  your  houses  ! 

Garrick  was  himself  naturally  tired  of  the  contest,  as  the  audience  began  to  fall  off ; 
and  wrote  the  two  following  epigrams  : — 

So  revers'd  are  the  notions  of  Capulet's  daughters, 
One  loves  a  whole  length,  and  the  other  three  quarters. 

Fair  Juliet  at  one  house  exclaims  with  a  sigh, 

No  Romeo  is  clever  that's  not  six  feet  high  ; 

Less  ambitiously  t'other  does  Romeo  adore, 

Though  in  size  he  scarce  reaches  to  five  feet  and  four. 

These  lines  my  old  friend  Cooke,  the  barrister,  received  from  Garrick  himself,  and 
I  believe  they  were  never  before  published. 

Garrick's  Juliet  was  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Cibber,  and  Barry's  was  a  Miss  Nossiter, 
a  woman  of  fortune,  fond  of  the  stage,  but  more  fond  of  Barry,  to  whom  she  pre- 
sented a  pair  of  diamond  shoe-buckles.  A  lady  of  fashion  being  asked  her  opinion  of 
the  two  Romcos,  said,  "  When  I  saw  Garrick,  if  I  had  been  his  Juliet,  I  should  have 
wished  him  to  leap  up  into  the  balcony  to  me  ;  but  when  I  saw  Barry,  I  should  have 
been  inclined  to  jump  down  to  him."  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  fine  figure 
of  Barry  made  a  great  impression  on  the  ladies,  but  I  am  assured  that  the  critics 
decided  in  favour  of  Garrick.  My  late  friend  Arthur  Murphy  told  me,  that  when 
he  wrote  "  The  Grecian  Daughter,"  he  intended  the  part  of  Evander  for  Barry,  to 
whom  he  had  promised  it,  but  to  his  surprise,  Garrick  signified  that  he  would  per- 
form it  himself.  Murphy  could  not  but  rejoice  that  his  play  would  have  such 
powerful  support,  yet  was  embarrassed  in  thinking  he  should  be  obliged  to  forfeit 
his  promise  to  Barry  ;  there  was,  however,  no  resisting  the  power  of  the  manager 
and  his  transcendent  talents.  Murphy  therefore  went  to  Barry,  told  him  Garrick's 
intention,  and  began  to  apologize.  Barry  stopped  him  in  a  moment,  and  said,  '*  Let 
him  perform  it,  he  will  soon  be  tired,  and  resign  it  to  me,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  per- 
form it  much  better  from  his  example."  Such  was  the  opinion  entertained  by  Barry 
of  the  advantages  which  he  should  derive  from  witnessing  the  excellence  of  Garrick 
in  the  part.  Upon  reflection,  Garrick  thought  himself  too  old  to  perform  a  new- 
part,  particularly  if  the  piece  should  have  a  run,  and  therefore  resigned  it  to  Barry. 
I  was  present  the  first  night,  and  well  remember  the  Evander  of  Barry,  which  cor- 
responded with  his  infirmities  at  the  time,  and  made  a  powerful  impression  on  the 
audience.  Mrs.  Barry's  excellence  in  Euphrasia  considerably  added  to  her  repu- 
tation, as  she  was  then  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  in  the  full  vigour  of  her  talents. 


CAPABILITY  BROWN. 


I8T 


applause,  and  the  queen's  countenance  expressed  an  affable  smile ;  but 
the  actress,  the  moment  after  she  had  uttered  the  words,  was  ready 
to  sink  with  confusion. 

The  famous  Earl  of  Dorset,  Prior's  patron,  used  to  say  he  hated 
to  be  in  the  same  room  with  a  dull  good-natured  person,  as  there  was 
eo  kicking  him  out  of  the  company. 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

Capability  Brown.  This  gentleman  may  be  numbered  among 
the  acquaintance  of  my  family,  but  he  flourished  before  my  time. 
He  was  famous  for  his  taste  in  ornamenting  grounds,  and  acquired 
the  title  of  Capability,  as  it  was  his  custom  in  looking  over  parks, 
gardens,  and  their  vicinities,  to  say  that  they  displayed  capabilities. 
He  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  great  taste,  and  had  improved  many 
noblemen's  seats  and  situations  that  seemed  incapable  of  deriving 
Eiuch  advantage  in  point  of  prospect,  and  also  in  interior  embellish- 
ments. He  was  at  length  so  much  celebrated,  and  his  practice  so 
successful, — he  had,  moreover,  such  a  full  reliance  on  his  own  genius, 
and  his  judgment  was  so  much  respected,  that  he  made  no  scruple  on 
all  occasions  to  maintain  his  decided  right  to  the  reputation  he  had 
acquired.  He  was  received  into  the  best  company,  not  only  on 
account  of  his  professional  skill,  but  for  his  humour  and  promptitude 
at  repartee. 

One  day  when  he  was  walking  through  the  royal  gardens  with 
King  George  the  Third,  his  majesty  having  asked  his  opinion  of  the 
arrangement  of  the  grounds,  Brown  expressed  hi3  approbation  of  it, 
and  said  it  must  have  been  designed  and  executed  by  "  the  Brown 
of  the  time."  When  the  great  Lord  Chatham,  disabled  by  the  gout, 
was  descending  the  stairs  of  St.  James's  Palace,  Brown  offered  to 
assist  his  lordship  and  attend  him  to  his  carriage.  As  soon  as  the 
noble  lord  was  seated,  he  said,  "  Thank  you,  Mr.  Brown  ;  now,  sir, 
go  and  adorn  your  country."  Brown  instantly  answered,  "  Go  you, 
my  lord,  and  save  it."  An  ingenious  and  happy  return. 

Having  dined  one  day  at  the  house  of  a  nobleman,  and  the  conver- 
sation turning  upon  gardening,  some  of  the  company  spoke  in  favour 
of  clumps.  On  departing  with  a  nobleman,  a  double  row  of  servants, 
like  a  "  liveried  army,"  to  use  the  words  of  Dr.  Johnson,  lined  the 
passage  in  expectation  of  receiving  what  are  called  vails  from  each 
of  the  guests  :  Brown,  casting  his  eyes  on  both  sides  of  the  passage 
where  these  toll-gatherers  were  assembled,  "  Don't  you  think,  my 
lord,"  said  he,  "  that  this  vista  ought  to  be  clumped  ?"  This  mode  of 
levying  contributions  on  visiters  was  carried  to  an  almost  incredible 
extent,  till  some  persons  of  distinction  united  in  forming  a  determi- 
nation to  abolish  such  a  disgraceful  taxation. 


188 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


It  is  said  that  this  practice  prevailed  to  such  a  degree,  even  at  the 
house  of  the  great  Lord  Chesterfield,  that  when  he  invited  Voltaire  a 
second  time  to  his  table,  the  French  wit  in  his  answer  declined  the 
invitation,  alleging  that  "  his  lordship's  ordinary  was  too  dear." 

Another  evil  practice  of  servants  to  the  higher  orders,  at  that  time- 
was  carried  to  such  a  height  that  it  wrought  its  own  cure.  It  was 
usual  at  the  old  Italian  Opera-house  to  allot  a  gallery  to  the  footmen, 
that  when  their  masters  or  mistresses  had  appointed  the  time  to  leave 
the  theatre,  their  servants  might  be  ready  to  attend.  But  these  livery- 
men took  it  into  their  heads  to  become  critics  upon  the  performances, 
and  delivered  their  comments  in  so  tumultuous  a  manner,  that  the 
managers  found  it  absolutely  necessary  to  close  the  gallery  against 
them,  and  to  assign  it  to  those  only  who  paid  for  admission. 

Just  before  the  abolition  of  this  party-coloured  tribunal,  a  wag  who 
was  fond  of  music,  but  who  had  more  wit  than  money,  appeared  at 
the  gallery  door,  where  the  porter  demanded  the  name  of  his  master, 
The  wag  boldly  answered, "I  am  the  Lord  Jehovah's  servant,"  and 
"was  admitted,  one  of  the  door-keepers  saying  to  the  other,  "  I  never 
heard  of  that  man's  master  before,  but  suppose  it  is  some  scurvy  Scotch 
lord  or  other." 

When  my  old  friend  George  Colman  the  younger  had  written  his 
excellent  comedy  of  "John  Bull,"  and  it  was  in  rehearsal  at  Covent 
Garden  theatre,  the  late  Mr.  Lewis,  who  performed  the  part  of  the 
Honourable  Mr.  Shuffleton,  told  me  that  the  late  Sir  Charles  Bamfield 
desired  he  would  dress  the  character  after  his  (Sir  Charles's)  usual 
mode  of  attire,  and  that  he  would  endeavour  to  induce  the  author  to 
change  the  name  to  any  other  that  sounded  like  Bamfield,  that  the 
public  might  identify  the  character  with  him.  The  author  wisely  de- 
clined the  suggested  alteration,  unwilling  to  incur  the  charge  of  person- 
ality. This  was  a  strange  ambition  of  Sir  Charles,  as  the  character 
is  by  no  means  an  honourable  one,  but  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  the 
veracity  of  Mr.  Lewis.  Sir  Charles  Bamfield  was  held  as  the  mode! 
of  a  fine  gentleman  by  Dr.  Wolc'ot,  as  he  told  me ;  so  was  Arthur 
Murphy  by  Dr.  Johnson. 

Mr.  John  Kemble  used  to  relate  many  whimsical  anecdotes  of  pro- 
vincial actors  whom  he  knew  in  the  early  part  of  his  life.  He  said 
that  an  actor  who  was  to  perform  the  character  of  Kent,  in  the  play 
of  "  King  Lear,"  had  dressed  himself  like  a  doctor,  with  a  large  grizzle 
"wig,  having  a  walking-stick,  which  he  held  up  to  his  nose,  and  a  box 
under  his  arm.  Being  asked  why  he  dressed  the  Earl  of  Kent  in  that 
manner,  he  said,  "  People  mistake  the  character ;  he  was  not  an  earl, 
but  a  doctor.  Does  not  Kent  say,  when  the  king  draws  his  sword 
on  him  for  speaking  in  favour  of  Cordelia, 1  Do  kill  thy  physician. 
Lear  f  and  when  the  king  tells  him  to  take  his  '  hated  trunk  from  his 
dominions,'  and  Kent  says, 1  Now  to  new  climes  my  old  trunk  I'll  bear,' 
what  could  he  mean  but  his  medicine-chest,  to  practise  in  another 
country  V* 

The  late  Mr.  Kemble  was  known  to  be  of  a  convivial  turn,  and  not 
in  a  hurry  to  leave  a  jovial  party.    He  passed  an  evening  with  my 


JOHN  KEMBLE. 


189 


late  friend  Dr.  Charles  Burney,  who  kept  an  academy  on  the  Ham- 
mersmith road,  near  to  the  three-mile-stone.  Mr.  Kemble  remained 
here  till  five  in  the  morning,  when  looking  out  of  the  window  he  saw  a 
fish-cart  on  its  way  to  Billingsgate,  and  having  no  other  conveyance  to 
town,  he  hailed  the  driver,  and  desired  to  be  his  passenger.  The 
man  readily  consented,  when  Kemble  adapted  himself  to  the  capacity 
of  the  man,  who  declared  that  he  never  met  so  pleasant  a  gentleman 
before.  Instead  of  getting  out,  he  desired  the  man  to  take  him  on 
to  Billingsgate,  where  some  of  the  people  happened  to  know  his  per- 
son, and  told  it  to  the  rest.  The  people  left  their  business,  gathered 
round  him,  and  gave  him  a  cheer.  Mr.  Pearce,  then  an  eminent  fish- 
monger in  London,  and  an  old  friend  of  Macklin  the  actor,  advanced 
towards  Mr.  Kemble,  and  offered  to  show  him  the  place.  Mr.  Kem- 
ble remained  some  time,  gratified  the  crowd  with  some  humorous 
sallies,  and  then  told  Mr.  Pearce  that  if  he  could  get  a  coach  he  would 
take  home  a  turbot  for  Mrs.  Kemble.  Mr.  Pearce  despatched  one 
of  his  servants,  who  soon  brought  a  coach,  and  Mr.  Pearce  took  care 
to  procure  for  him  the  best  turbot  the  market  afforded,  and  he  went 
off  amid  the  shouts  of  the  people,  which  he  returned  with  gracious 
salutations.  Mr.  Pearce  has  some  years  retired  to  Margate,  and  from 
him  I  learned  the  latter  part  of  this  anecdote. 

Mr,  Kemble  resided  some  time  on  Turnham  Green,  during  the 
summer  season,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  him,  and  he 
read  to  me  his  romantic  entertainment  of  "  Lodoiska."  There  was  a 
club  at  the  Packhorse  Tavern,  consisting  of  the  chief  gentlemen  of 
the  neighbourhood,  of  which  Dr.  Wolcot,  Mr.  Jesse  Foot,  and  Mr. 
Jerningham  were  admitted  members.  Mr.  Kemble  was  invited  to 
dine  at  this  club,  and  Mr.  George  Colman  happening  to  call  on  Mr. 
Kemble,  hijpwas  invited  also.  They  kept  up  the  ball  till  mcst  of  the 
members,  who  had  remained  long  beyond  the  usual  time,  entertained 
by  the  remarks  of  Kemble  and  the  gayeties  of  my  friend  Colman, 
gradually  withdrew ;  and  Kemble  and  Colman  did  not  break  up  till 
twelve  o'clock  the  next  day,  having  been  left  by  themselves  for  many 
hours. 

I  have  been  more  than  once  kept  up  by  Mr.  Kemble  till  four  and 
five  in  the  morning.  This  I  remember  particularly  to  have  happened 
after  his  first  performance  of  Octavian  in  "  The  Mountaineers."  At 
length,  however,  he  became  quite  temperate  ;  and  the  last  time  I 
dined  with  him  at  his  own  house  in  Russell-street,  Bloomsbury,  I  said 
to  him,  "  Come,  Johnny,  we  have  not  drunk  a  glass  of  wine  together." 
Mrs.  Kemble  then  said,  "  I  am  Johnny ;  Mr.  Kemble  does  not  drink 
wine,  and  I  am  ready  for  you."  Mr.  Kemble  did  not  drink  wine  all 
the  time,  but  was  in  such  good  spirits  as  to  show  that  he  had  no  occa- 
sion for  such  an  auxiliary. 

It  has  been  often  observed  that  a  man  will  readily  face  danger  and 
death  in  one  form,  and  be  afraid  of  it  in  another ;  and  this  remark  was 
strikingly  exemplified  in  Junot,  one  of  Bonaparte's  generals,  who  raised 
himself  by  his  coolness  when  Bonaparte  was  besieging  Toulon.  He 
was  writing  something  by  order  of  the  latter  when  a  bombshell  burst 


190 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


near  him ;  he  promptly  observed  that  he  wanted  sand,  and  it  had 
come  in  due  time.  Yet  I  remember  to  have  heard  Sir  Sydney  Smith, 
speaking  of  Junot  in  the  captain's  room  at  the  Admiralty,  say,  that 
when  he  was  going  on  board  the  Tigre,  Sir  Sydney's  ship,  he  was  so 
frightened  in  mounting  the  ladder,  that  it  was  found  necessary  to  take 
him  on  board  through  one  of  the  port-holes. 

Handel,  when  he  first  visited  Ireland,  in  consequence  of  his  disgust 
at  the  preference  given  to  Bononcini  in  London,  carried  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  Dean  Swift.  When  the  dean  heard  that  he  was  a 
musician  and  a  German,  he  declined  receiving  him ;  but  when  his 
man  added  that  the  bearer  of  the  letter  was  a  great  genius,  "  A  genius 
and  a  German  !"  said  Swift:  "  Oh,  then,  show  him  up  immediately." 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  slight  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Morell,  well 
known  for  learning  and  piety,  and  who  selected  subjects  from  the 
Scriptures  for  Handel's  oratorios.  I  heard  him  say  that,  one  fine 
summer  morning,  he  was  roused  out  of  bed  at  five  o'clock  by  Handel, 
who  came  in  his  carriage  a  short  distance  from  London.  The  doctor 
went  to  the  window  and  spoke  to  Handel,  who  would  not  leave  his 
carriage.  Handel  was  at  the  time  composing  an  oratorio.  When 
the  doctor  asked  him  what  he  wanted,  he  said,  "  What  de  devil  means 
de  vord  billow  ?"  which  was  in  the  oratorio  the  doctor  had  written 
for  him.  The  doctor,  after  laughing  at  so  ludicrous  a  reason  for  dis- 
turbing him,  told  him  that  billow  meant  wave,  a  wave  of  the  sea. 
"  Oh,  de  vave,"  said  Handel,  and  bade  his  coachman  return,  without 
addressing  another  word  to  the  doctor. 

Doctor  Monsey  told  me  that  he  had  watched  Quin  the  actor  with 
attention,  and  sometimes  thought  he  had  evidently  prepared  and  laid 
trains  for  his  bons-mots,  but  that  Lord  Chesterfield's  seemed  to  be 
elicited  by  the  occasion,  and  were  promptly  uttered.  The  only  weak 
thing  he  said  he  ever  heard  from  his  lordship  was,  when  somebody 
in  company  said,  "  My  lord,  I  drink  your  health,"  and  his  lordship 
answered,  "  Then  how  can  I  have  it  ?"  I  presume  here  to  differ  with 
my  friend  Monsey,  for  the  salutation  was  a  vulgar  custom,  and  his 
lordship,  no  doubt,  intended  to  correct  it,  so  that  on  this  occasion  he 
might  rather  be  supposed  to  desert  his  usual  politeness  than  to  show 
any  want  of  w  it. 

Reverse  of  fortune.  Madame  Mara,  with  whom  I  was  intimately 
acquainted  from  her  first  arrival  in  this  country  as  a  great  singer,  told 
me  that  she  saw  a  woman  sweeping  the  streets  at  Berlin  who  had 
been  the  chief  singer  at  the  opera  in  Madrid.  A  very  rich  jewel  had 
been  offered  for  sale  to  the  queen  of  Spain,  who  admired  it  very 
much,  but  declared  she  could  not  afford  to  purchase  so  valuable  an 
article.  The  singer  above  mentioned  bought  it  with  the  foolish 
vanity  of  showing  that  she  was  richer  than  the  queen.  This  act  was 
deemed  so  presumptuous  and  insolent,  that  the  royal  family  withdrew' 
all  patronage  from  the  Opera-house  till  this  woman  was  dismissed. 
The  common  people  also  partook  in  the  feelings  of  the  court,  and  ex- 
pressed their  disgust  whenever  she  appeared.  She  was,  therefore, 
-obliged  to  leave  Madrid,  but  the  story  followed  her  wherever  she 


MRS.  BATIMAN  CHEVALIER  D'EON. 


191 


went,  and  though  her  vocal  talents  were  great,  she  was  everywhere 
so  ill-received,  that  at  length  all  her  pecuniary  resources  were  ex- 
hausted, and  she  sunk  into  the  low  condition  in  which  Madame  Mara 
saw  her. 

A  few  years  ago  a  Mrs.  Batiman  forced  herself  upon  public  atten- 
tion by  an  exhibition  of  her  skill  in  fencing,  in  a  contest  with  the  cel- 
ebrated Chevalier  d'Eon,  and  also  by  performing  at  one  of  the  Lon- 
don theatres, — I  believe  that  in  the  Haymarket.  Her  acting  was 
characterized  by  the  boldness  and  confidence  of  vanity,  rather  than 
by  any  real  comic  merits.  I  saw  this  woman  play  "  Bridget,"  in  the 
comedy  of  "  The  Chapter  of  incidents,"  and  I  never  saw  any  per- 
former, male  or  female,  that  seemed  to  manifest  such  self-possession,  the 
obvious  result  of  a  settled  conviction  of  conscious  excellence.  By  her 
audacity  and  artifice,  she  entrapped  Mr.  Kemble  into  an  epistolary  cor- 
respondence, having  offered  herself  for  an  engagement  at  Drury-lane 
theatre  when  he  was  manager.  Not  succeeding  with  Mr.  Kemble, 
she  solicited  an  interview  with  Mr.  Sheridan,  accusing  Mr.  Kemble 
of  having  encouraged  her  hopes  of  an  engagement,  and  then  of  having 
abruptly  rejected  her.  Mr.  Sheridan  granted  the  interview,  but  in- 
timated that  Mr.  Kemble  should  be  present,  that  he  might  hear  both, 
parties.  She  went  to  Mr.  Sheridan's,  and  brought  with  her  a  num- 
ber of  papers,  including  Mr.  Kemble's  letters.  She  read  them  with 
great  vehemence,  and  with  a  kind  of  theatrical  deportment,  in  order 
to  impress  Mr.  Sheridan  with  a  high  idea  of  her  talents  for  the  stage. 
She  placed  each  of  them  on  the  table  as  she  read  it,  and  her  feelings 
were  so  entirely  engrossed  by  the  business,  that  Mr.  Kemble,  who 
was  present,  contrived  to  take  them,  one  by  one,  from  her  mass  of 
papers,  and  throw  them  into  the  fire.  When  she  had  finished  the  re- 
lation of  her  case,  Mr.  Sheridan  said  that  he  had  heard  nothing  in  Mr. 
JCemble's  letters  which  justified  her  in  charging  him  with  having  de- 
ceived her ;  and  that  he  was  sure  Mr.  Kemble  would  not  have  given 
her  any  hope  of  an  engagement  without  consulting  him  and  receiving 
his  sanction.  She  rose  from  her  chair,  hastily  gathered  her  papers, 
without  missing  the  letters,  and  left  the  room  in  a  violent  passion. 

Mr.  Kemble  assured  me  the  letters  contained  nothing  but  the 
courtesy  due  to  a  female,  and  that  he  only  withdrew  and  destroyed 
them  because  he  did  not  like  to  have  them  remain  in  the  hands  of  so 
violent  and  vindictive  a  woman.  He  never  knew  whether  she  missed 
the  letters,  as  he  never  heard  from  her  again.  What  finally  became 
of  her  I  know  not,  but  I  heard  that  poor  Chevalier  D'Eon,  after  hav- 
ing distinguished  himself  as  a  politician  and  an  historian,  disgraced 
his  character  by  exhibiting  himself  with  this  woman  in  fencing 
matches  at  several  provincial  towns.  The  mysterious  character  of 
D'Eon,  and  his  appearance  both  as  a  male  and  female  in  this  country 
and  in  many  parts  of  Europe,  rendered  him  a  subject  of  general 
conversation,  insomuch  that  policies  were  opened  to  ascertain  his  sex, 
while  he  appeared  in  male  and  female  attire. 

D'Eon,  before  the  revolution,  had  assumed  the  male  attire,  but  by 
an  order  of  the  French  court,  from  which  it  is  understood  he  received. 


192 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


a  pension,  he  was  compelled  to  appear  again  like  a  woman,  as  ori- 
ginally directed  by  the  French  government,  for  reasons  which  have 
Sever  been  satisfactorily  developed. 

I  was  assured  by  a  very  old  friend  of  my  father,  who  was  wel! 
acquainted  with  D'Eon  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  time  when  he  ap- 
peared in  male  attire,  and  was  connected  with  an  agency  from  France, 
that  his  manners  were  captivating,  and  that  he  might  have  married 
most  advantageously,  as  several  ladies  of  good  families,  and  with 
large  fortunes,  had  made  overtures  to  him  at  country-seats  where  he 
visited,  and  that  on  all  such  occasions  he  immediately  left  the  house. 
Hence  it  was  inferred  he  quitted  the  place  on  account  of  his  being 
really  of  the  female  sex.  It  is  difficult  to  discover  what  were  his 
real  motives  for  retaining  the  female  attire  after  the  destruction  of  the 
monarchy  in  France,  and  when  he  ceased  to  have  any  connexion 
with  that  country. 

I  met  the  chevalier  in  his  advanced  life  at  the  late  Mr.  Angelo's. 
in  Carlisle-street,  Soho,  and  if  his  manners  had  been  once  so  capti- 
vating, they  had  undergone  a  great  alteration,  for  though  he  was 
dressed  as  a  woman,  he  spoke  and  acted  with  all  the  roughness  of  a 
veteran  soldier.  From  all  I  have  heard  of  D'Eon,  he  must  have 
been  a  very  intelligent  man,  full  of  anecdote  and  fertile  in  conversa- 
tion ;  and  I  cannot  but  repeat  my  regret,  that  a  character  who  had 
made  so  conspicuous  a  figure,  should  ever  have  been  reduced  to 
derive  a  precarious  support  from  a  public  exhibition  of  his  talents  in 
fencing  with  a  woman.  What  were  his  means  for  subsistence  till 
his  death,  is  not,  and  perhaps  never  wiil  be  known ;  but  his  name 
and  extraordinary  appearance  will  never  be  forgotten. 

It  is  probable  that  before  the  destruction  of  the  French  monarchy 
lie  had  a  pension  from  France  ;  and  not  improbable  that  the  British 
government,  which  made  so  magnificent  a  provision  for  Genera! 
Paoli,  had  allotted  some  support  to  the  Chevalier  D'Eon.  It  appears 
somewhat  strange,  that  nothing  was  also  done  for  poor  Theodore;, 
who  had  actually  been  elected  King  of  Corsica  by  the  people,  and 
who  had  nearly  died  in  a  jail  in  this  country,  while  Paoli  was  so 
well  provided  for,  who  certainly  had  not  equal  pretensions.  Paoli 
lived  almost  like  a  nobleman  in  this  country ;  and  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  discover  why  he  was  so  bountifully  patronised,  though,  as  a 
man  who  had  struggled  hard  for  the  deliverance  of  his  country,  it 
was  suitable  to  the  character  of  Great  Britain  to  afford  him  a  liberal 
asylum. 

I  knew  a  little  of  Paoli,  and  passed  two  evenings  with  him  at 
Mr.  Cosway's,  in  Stratford  Place.  In  the  first  evening  there  was 
a  very  large  party,  and  some  fine  musical  performances,  but  Mrs. 
Abington  and  Paoli  seemed  not  to  be  interested  by  those  entertain- 
ments, and  sat  on  a  sofa  by  the  fire.  As  I  knew  that  I  could  often 
jhear  music,  and  rarely  see  such  a  man  as  Paoli,  I  joined  them  near 
the  sofa,  and  took  a  part  in  their  conversation.  Mrs.  Abington, 
whom  I  had  previously  known,  was  brisk,  smart,  and  intelligent. 
She  endeavoured  to  draw  out  Paoli,  but  he  seemed  more  inclined  to 


PAOLI,  LORD  LYTTELTON,  AND  DR.  JOHNSON. 


193 


listen,  and  though  he  had  lived  so  long  in  the  country,  he  knew  so 
little  of  our  language  that  it  was  not  very  easy  to  understand  him. 
The  second  evening  nobody  was  present  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cosway, 
General  Paoli,  and  myself.  Paoli  displayed  the  same  silent  manner, 
which  did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  an  habitual  or  intentional  reserve, 
but  rather  a  reluctance  to  speak,  on  account  of  the  difficulty  which 
he  felt  of  making  himself  fully  understood.  Mrs.  Cosway  was  the 
life  of  the  conversation,  and  by  her  attention  to  Paoli,  she  gave  him  a 
fair  opportunity  of  coming  forward  with  advantage ;  yet,  though  I 
listened  with  an  anxious  desire  to  hear  the  sentiments  and  opinion  of 
a  person  who  had  excited  so  much  notice  in  the  world,  I  heard  nothing 
from  him,  notwithstanding  various  topics  were  introduced ,  that 
appeared  to  me  to  be  worth  treasuring  in  my  memory.  I  had  heard 
from  the  Boswells,  father  and  son,  of  the  elegance  of  his  manners, 
but  it  appeared  to  be  of  the  privative  kind,  and  such  as  might  be  ex- 
pected from  any  modest  man  who  was  fearful  of  giving  offence. 

Paoli,  during  the  revolutionary  government  in  France,  went  to 
Paris,  and  paid  homage  to  the  usurping  powers.  He  then  proceeded 
to  Corsica,  but  did  not  experience  a  very  encouraging  reception, 
and,  therefore,  wisely  returned  to  this  country,  where  he  received  the 
same  liberal  allowance,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  stu- 
dious ease  and  limited  intercourse  with  society.  Whether  he  had 
any  acquaintance  with  my  friend  Colonel  Frederick,  the  son  of  Theo- 
dore, I  know  not;  but  Frederick  did  not  seem  to  hold  him  in  much 
respect,  appearing  rather  to  consider  him  as  a  man  who  had  been 
fortunately  raised  into  unmerited  distinction  ;  and  I  never  had  rea- 
son to  believe  that  Frederick  was  capable  of  detraction. 

Paoli  in  person  altogether  bore  a  stronger  resemblance  to  the  late 
celebrated  Dr.  Herschel  than  I  ever  saw  between  any  other  two  in- 
dividuals. With  Dr.  Herschel  I  once  passed  great  part  of  an  even- 
ing at  the  hospitable  mansion  of  the  late  Mr.  Thompson,  in  Grosvenor- 
square,  and  I  was  much  struck  with  the  unaffected  modesty  of  a 
gentleman  so  justly  esteemed  for  his  astronomical  discoveries. 

The  first  Lord  Lyttelton  was  very  absent  in  company,  and  when 
he  fell  into  a  river  by  the  oversetting  of  a  boat,  at  Hagley,  it  was  said 
of  him  that  he  had  "  sunk  twice  before  he  recollected  he  could  swim." 
Mr.  Jerningham  told  me,  that  dining  one  day  with  his  lordship,  the 
earl  pointed  to  a  particular  dish,  and  asked  to  be  helped  of  it,  calling  it, 
however,  by  a  name  very  different  from  what  the  dish  contained. 
A  gentleman  wras  going  to  tell  him  of  his  mistake.  "  Never  mind," 
whispered  another  of  the  party ;  "  help  him  to  what  he  asked  for^ 
and  he  will  suppose  it  is  what  he  wanted." 

Dr.  Johnson,  on  hearing  a  Mr.  Dalrymple,  at  the  table  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  speaking  with  contempt  of  Racine,  the  French 
poet,  expressed  a  high  opinion  of  Racine.  Mr.  Dalrymple,  in  answer, 
said,  "  Why,  doctor,  I  heard  you  say  that  you  had  never  read  Racine, 
how  then  can  you  be  able  to  judge  of  his  merit  ?"  The  doctor,  after 
giving  his  body  the  usual  meditative  roll,  replied,  "  Weil,  sir,  I  never 
did  read  Racine,  but  the  opinion  of  all  Europe  is  in  his  favour,  and 


1D4 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


surely  I  may  venture  to  prefer  that  opinion  to  the  judgment  of  Mr. 
Dalrymple."  Mr.  Jerningham  dined  with  Sir  Joshua  that  day,  and 
told  me  the  story. 

Arthur  Murphy,  whose  mind  was  chiefly  occupied  by  dramatic 
subjects,  after  he  became  a  barrister,  dining  one  Sunday  at  the  chap- 
lain's table,  St.  James's  Palace,  being  too  early,  strolled  into  the 
Chapel  Royal  during  the  service,  and  desiring  a  seat,  he  thus  ad- 
dressed one  of  the  attendants  on  the  pews :  "  Here,  boxkeeper,  open 
this  box" 

The  great  Lord  Chatham,  speaking  of  a  statesman  of  his  time 
who  was  in  place,  said,  "  That  man  would  not  be  honest  if  he  could, 
and  could  not  if  he  would." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

As  I  have  had  much  intercourse  with  the  theatrical  world,  and 
intend  to  notice  such  celebrated  actors  as  have  quitted  the  stage  of 
life,  it  would  be  strange  indeed,  if,  having  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  performances  of  Mr.  Garrick,  I  should  lightly  pass  over  his  name 
in  my  humble  records.  I  shall  not  enter  into  his  history,  as  it  is  to 
be  found  in  innumerable  dramatic  annals,  and  particularly  in  those  of 
Mr.  Davies  and  Mr.  Murphy.  It  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to 
attempt  to  delineate  his  excellence  as  an  actor,  even  if  I  were  capa- 
ble of  paying  a  due  tribute  to  his  genius,  after  the  testimonies  of  the 
chief  literati  and  best  judges  of  the  time.  I  shall  merely  relate  a 
few  anecdotes,  in  addition  to  those  already  scattered  through  these 
records,  which  I  learned  from  private  channels ;  and  content  myself 
with  saying,  that  though  I  saw  him  in  my  early  days,  I  witnessed  his 
excellence  in  such  a  variety  of  characters,  that  he  made  a  strong 
impression  on  my  mind,  and  I  remember  enough  of  his  acting  to  be 
able  to  compare  him  with  all  his  successors  in  every  one  of  those 
characters,  and  have  never  seen  in  the  best  of  them  any  thing  like 
equal  merit.  In  fact,  in  my  humble  opinion,  he  shone  as  much  as  an 
actor  as  his  favourite  Shakspeare  does  as  a  dramatic  poet. 

My  old  friend  Dr.  Monsey  was  for  many  years  in  the  closest  inti- 
macy with  Garrick,  and  though  the  occasion  of  their  separation  was 
never  removed,  they  must  mutually  have  regretted  the  dissolution  of 
their  friendship.  Garrick  was  fond  of  playing  tricks,  but  in  them  he 
had  an  eye  to  his  art.  Dr.  Monsey  had  often  been  with  him  when  he 
indulged  himself  in  these  pranks,  and  sometimes  thought  himself  in 
danger  of  suffering  by  the  consequences  of  his  sportive  levity.  Dr. 
Monsey  told  me,  that  he  once  had  occasion  to  accompany  Garrick 
and  Mr.  Windham  of  Norfolk,  father  of  the  late  Mr.  Windham  the 
statesman,  into  the  city.  On  their  return,  Garrick  suddenly  left  them 
at  the  top  of  Ludgate  Hill,  and  walking  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 


GARRICK  AND  DR.  MONSEY. 


195 


looked  upwards,  and  repeated  several  times  to  himself,  "  I  never  saw 
two  before."  The  strange  appearance  of  a  man  in  this  situation 
talking  to  himself,  naturally  attracted  some  persons  towards  him, 
more  followed,  and  at  length  a  great  crowd  was  collected  round  him. 
Several  persons  asked  him  what  he  saw.  He  made  no  answer,  but 
repeated  the  same  words.  A  man  then  observed  that  the  gentleman 
must  see  two  storks,  as  they  are  rarely  if  ever  seen  in  pairs.  This 
observation  contented  the  multitude,  till  another  said,  "Well,  but  who 
sees  one  besides  the  gentleman  ?"  Monsey,  for  fear  of  getting  into 
a  scrape,  moved  off,  lest  he  should  be  taken  for  a  confederate  to  make 
people  fools  ;  but  I  now  remember  that  Mr.  Windham,  who,  like  his 
son,  was  a  good  boxer,  determined  to  witness  the  end  of  this  whim- 
sical freak.  Garrick  affected  an  insane  stare,  cast  his  eyes  around 
the  multitude,  and  afterward  declared  that  from  the  various  expression 
in  the  faces  of  the  people,  and  their  gestures,  he  had  derived  hints 
that  served  him  in  his  profession. 

Another  time,  when  Garrick  was  with  Monsey,  at  the  joyful  sound 
of  twelve  at  noon,  a  great  many  boys  poured  out  of  school.  Gar- 
rick selected  one  whom  he  accused  of  having  treated  another  cruelly 
who  stood  near  him.  The  boy  declared  that  he  had  not  been  ill- 
treated  ;  and  Garrick  then  scolded  the  other  still  more,  affecting  to 
think  how  little  he  deserved  the  generosity  of  the  boy  who  sought  to 
excuse  him  by  a  falsehood.  The  boys  were  left  in  a  state  of  con- 
sternation by  Garrick's  terrific  demeanour  and  piercing  eye  ;  and  he 
told  Monsey  that  he  derived  much  advantage  from  observing  their 
various  emotions. 

While  he  was  walking  with  Monsey  on  another  occasion,  he  saw  a 
ticket-porter  going  before  them  at  a  brisk  pace,  and  humming  a  tune. 
They  were  then  at  old  Somerset  House.  "  I'll  get  a  crowd  around 
that  man,"  said  Garrick,  "  before  he  reaches  Temple  Bar."  He  then 
advanced  before  the  man,  turned  his  head,  and  gave  him  a  piercing 
look.  The  man's  gayety  was  checked  in  a  moment,  he  kept  his  eye  on 
Garrick,  who  stopped  at  an  apple-stall  till  the  man  came  near,  then 
gave  him  another  penetrating  glance,  and  went  immediately  on.  The 
man  began  to  look  if  there  w7as  any  thing  strange  about  him  that 
attracted  the  gentleman's  notice,  and,  as  Garrick  repeated  the  same 
expedient,  turned  himself  in  all  directions,  and  pulled  off  his  wig,  to 
see  if  any  thing  ridiculous  was  attached  to  him.  By  this  time,  the 
restless  anxiety  of  the  man  excited  the  notice  of  the  passengers,  and 
Garrick  effected  his  purpose  of  gathering  a  crowd  round  the  porter 
before  he  reached  Temple  Bar. 

Dr.  Monsey  said  that  he  once  was  in  danger  of  receiving  a  severe 
blow  in  consequence  of  one  of  Garrick's  vagaries  of  a  similar  kind. 
They  had  dined  at  Garrick's  house  in  Southampton-street,  Covent 
Garden,  and  had  taken  a  boat  in  order  to  go  in  the  evening  to  Vaux- 
hall.  A  smart-looking  young  waterman  stood  on  the  strand  at  Hun- 
gerford  Stairs.  As  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  their  boat,  Garrick 
addressed^the  young  waterman  in  the  following  manner  :  "  Are  you 
not  ashamed  to  dress  so  smart,  and  appear  so  gay,  when  you  know 
that  your  poor  mother  is  in  great  distress,  and  you  have  not  the  heart 


196 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


to  allow  her  more  than  threepence  a  week?"  The  young  man 
turned  his  head  to  see  if  anybody  was  near  to  whom  the  words  might 
apply,  and,  seeing  none,  he  took  up  a  brickbat  and  threw  it  very  near 
Garrick's  boat,  and  continued  to  aim  stones  at  him.  Garrick's  boat- 
man pulled  hard  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  this  missile  hostility,  or 
Monsey  said  they  might  have  otherwise  suffered  a  serious  injury. 

It  may  be  thought  that  these  wanton  sports  were  unworthy  of  such 
a  man,  but  allowance  is  to  be  made  for  a  great  genius  that  might  wish 
for  some  relaxation  after  the  toils  of  acting  and  the  troubles  of 
theatrical  management.  Garrick's  merit  as  an  actor  has  been  so 
often  and  so  well  described  by  the  chief  men  of  his  day,  that  I  shall 
say  no  more  on  the  subject,  except  to  refer  the  reader  to  my  friend 
Arthur  Murphy's  life  of  him,  which,  though  a  work  not  equal  to  what 
might  be  expected  from  him  if  written  at  an  earlier  period,  takes  a 
liberal  and  masterly  view  of  Garrick  in  his  several  capacities  as  actoiv 
author,  manager,  and  private  gentleman. 

Garrick  has  been  accused  of  avarice,  but  he  should  rather  have 
been  esteemed  for  prudence  and  economy,  as  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr. 
Murphy  both  declared,  that  to  their  knowledge  he  never  was  wanting 
in  private  benevolence. 

Mrs.  Clive  was  eminent  as  an  actress  on  the  London  stage  before 
Garrick  appeared,  and,  as  his  blaze  of  excellence  threw  all  others 
into  comparative  insignificance,  she  never  forgave  him,  and  took  every 
opportunity  of  venting  her  spleen.  She  was  coarse,  rude,  and  violent 
in  her  temper,  and  spared  nobody.  One  night,  as  Garrick  was  per- 
forming "  King  Lear,"  she  stood  behind  the  scenes  to  observe  him,  and 
in  spite  of  the  roughness  of  her  nature,  was  so  deeply  affected  that  she 
sobbed  one  minute  and  abused  him  the  next,  and  at  length,  overcome 
by  his  pathetic  touches,  she  hurried  from  the  place  with  the  following 
extraordinary  tribute  to  the  universality  of  his  powers:  "  D — n  him  I 
I  believe  he  could  act  a  gridiron." 

It  is  said  also  that  one  night  when  he  was  performing  "  Macbeth,"" 
and  the  murderer  entered  the  banquet  scene,  Garrick  looked  at  him 
with  such  an  expressive  countenance,  and  uttered  with  such  energy, 
"  There's  blood  upon  thy  face,"  that  the  actor  said,  "  Is  there,  by 
G —  ?"  instead  of  "  'Tis  Banquo's  then  ;"  thinking,  as  he  afterward 
acknowledged,  that  he  had  broken  a  blood-vessel. 

Dr.  Wolcot,  and  there  could  not  be  a  better  judge,  considered 
Garrick  perfect  in  comedy,  and  that  if  ever  he  was  at  fault  in  tragedy, 
it  was  because  the  language  and  sentiments  of  the  tragic  drama  were 
generally  unnatural.  Garrick  placed  the  works  of  Otway  next  tc* 
those  of  Shakspeare  in  his  library,  and  when  Monsey  asked  him  the 
reason,  he  said,  "  Because  I  think  that,  next  to  our  unrivalled  bard, 
he  had  more  command  over  the  passions  than  all  other  dramatic 
poets. 

My  father,  who  saw  him  perform  "King  Richard"  on  the  first 
night  of  his  appearance  at  Goodman's  Fields,  told  me  that  the 
audience  were  particularly  struck  with  his  manner  of  throwing  away 
the  book  when  the  lord  mayor  and  aldermen  had  retired,  as  it  mani- 


GARRICK. 


197 


fested  a  spirit  totally  different  from  the  solemn  dignity  which  charac- 
terized the  former  old  school,  and  which  his  natural  acting  wholly 
overturned. 

Garrick  was  once  present  when  my  father  was  going  to  perform  an 
operation  on  the  cataract ;  and  though  the  patient  was  timid  and  fear- 
ful, he  was  entertained  so  much  by  Garrick's  humour,  that  he  under- 
went the  operation  with  great  fortitude,  and  was  rewarded  by  its 
success. 

Garrick's  excellence  in  "  Leon"  was  universally  admitted,  but  he 
was  anxious  to  perform  the  part  of  the  "  Copper  Captain,"  in  "  Rule 
a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife,"  and  he  several  times  rehearsed  it  for  that 
purpose  ;  but  there  is  a  traditional  laugh  introduced,  which  he  never 
could  execute  to  his  own  satisfaction,  and,  therefore,  kept  to  "Leon," 
in  which  character  he  wras  admirable,  having  an  opportunity  of  show- 
ing how  well  he  could  represent  timid  simplicity  with  a  sly  mixture 
of  archness  in  the  early  scenes  of  the  character,  and  afterward  assert 
the  claims  of  the  husband  wTith  spirit,  energy,  and  grandeur.  Why 
this  traditional  laugh  should  be  introduced,  or  thought  essential  to  the 
part,  it  is  difficult  to  say ;  and  still  more  difficult  to  conceive  that  it 
should  have  exceeded  the  powers  of  Garrick,  who  was  an  admirable 
imitator.  The  "Copper  Captain"  is  to  laugh  when  he  finds  that 
"  Estifania"  had  imposed  his  false  jewels  on  the  usurer,  but  surely 
that  was  no  cause  for  such  elaborate  merriment  as  is  generally  ex- 
hibited in  the  part.  If  Garrick  failed  in  attempting  it,  this  was  not 
the  case  with  Woodward,  King,  and  Lewis,  all  of  whom  I  have  seen 
in  the  part,  and  the  laughter  was  natural  and  effective  in  all,  though 
it  was  entirely  different  in  each. 

Though  Garrick  felt  strongly  himself,  yet  he  was  always  able  to 
control  his  feelings,  and  could  reserve  them  for  future  indulgence. 
An  instance  of  this  self-command  occurred  when  a  young  candidate 
for  the  stage  addressed  him,  and  requested  to  be  heard  in  the  cele- 
brated soliloquy  in  "  Hamlet."  The  young  man  had,  unfortunately^ 
an  impediment  in  his  speech,  and  stammered  at  the  beginning.  Gar- 
rick expressed  his  surprise  that,  with  such  an  impediment,  he  should 
think  of  being  a  public  speaker  in  any  respect.  The  candidate 
assured  him  that  if  he  once  surmounted  the  difficulty  at  the  beginning, 
he  could  then  go  smoothly  on.  Garrick  dismissed  the  young  man 
with  courtesy,  reserving  the  merriment  that  such  an  incident  might 
naturally  excite  till  he  could  give  way  to  it  without  wounding  the 
feelings  of  another,  and  then  freely  indulged  in  it. 

I  will  now  mention  a  circumstance  that  manifests  the  irresistible 
power  of  his  acting.  The  late  Mr.  Farington,  a  member  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  and  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  told  me  that  he  had 
not  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Garrick  act  till  his  last  season.  Finding 
that  he  was  announced  for  "  Hamlet,"  Mr.  Farington  went  early  to 
the  theatre,  and  obtained  a  seat  in  the  second  row  in  the  pit.  He 
beheld  with  indifference  all  that  passed  in  the  play  previous  to  the 
entrance  of  "  Hamlet"  with  the  royal  court.  He  then  bent  forward 
with  eagerness,  and  directed  all  his  attention  to  Garrick.  Observing 


198 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


his  painted  face,  which  but  ill  concealed  the  effects  of  time,  his  bulky 
form  and  high-heeled  shoes  to  raise  his  figure,  Mr.  Farington  drew 
back  with  disappointment  and  dejection,  thinking  that  a  man  who  at 
an  earlier  period  might  fully  deserve  all  his  celebrity,  was  going  to  ex- 
pose himself  in  the  attempt  to  perform  a  character  for  which,  from 
age,  he  was  totally  unfit.  At  length  Garrick  began  to  speak  in  answer 
to  the  king.  Mr.  Farington  then  resumed  his  attention ;  and  such 
was  the  truth,  simplicity,  and  feeling  with  which  the  great  actor  spoke 
and  acted,  that  my  friend  declared  he  lost  sight  of  Garrick's  age, 
bulk,  and  high-heeled  shoes,  and  saw  nothing  but  the  "Hamlet" 
which  the  author  had  designed.  From  that  time,  Mr.  Farington  con- 
stantly attended  Garrick's  performances,  and  said  that  he  manifested 
equal  excellence  in  all. 

I  can  add  to  this  testimony  a  still  higher  authority  in  favour  of  Gar- 
rick's extraordinary  merit  as  an  actor.  Speaking  of  Garrick  once 
when  the  subject  of  acting  was  introduced  in  company  with  Mrs. 
Siddons,  I  observed,  so  long  a  time  had  passed  since  she  saw  him  act, 
that,  perhaps,  she  had  forgotten  him  ;  on  which  she  said  emphatically, 
it  was  impossible  to  forget  him.  Another  time  I  told  her  that  Mr. 
Sheridan  had  declared  Garrick's  "  Richard"  to  be  very  fine,  but  did 
not  think  it  terrible  enough.  "  God  bless  me  !"  said  she,  "  what  could 
be  more  terrible  V  She  then  informed  me,  that  when  she  was  re- 
hearsing the  part  of"  Lady  Anne"  to  his  "  Richard,"  he  desired  her,  as 
he  drew  her  from  the  couch,  to  follow  him  step  by  step,  for  otherwise 
he  should  be  obliged  to  turn  his  face  from  the  audience,  and  he  acted 
much  with  his  features.  Mrs.  Siddons  promised  to  attend  to  his 
desire,  but  assured  me  there  was  such  an  expression  in  his  acting 
that  it  entirely  overcame  her,  and  she  was  obliged  to  pause,  when  he 
gave  her  such  a  look  of  reprehension  as  she  never  could  recollect 
without  terror.  She  expressed  her  regret  that  she  had  only  seen  him 
in  two  characters,  except  when  she  acted  "  Lady  Anne"  with  him, — 
and  those  characters  were  "  Lear"  and  "  Ranger  that  his  "  Lear" 
was  tremendous,  and  his  "  Ranger"  delightful.  Nothing  need  be 
added  to  the  testimony  of  one  of  the  greatest  ornaments  of  the  stage 
which,  perhaps,  ever  appeared  since  the  origin  of  the  drama,  and 
whom,  perhaps,  it  is  impossible  to  surpass  in  theatrical  excellence. 

I  cannot  give  a  higher  idea  of  the  estimation  in  which  Garrick's 
talents,  wit,  and  humour  were  held,  than  by  stating  that  he  was  inti- 
mate with  the  great  Lord  Mansfield,  the  great  Lord  Camden,  and 
the  great  Earl  of  Chatham,  as  well  as  with  the  highest  nobility  and  the 
most  distinguished  literary  characters  of  his  time.  It  is  strange,  but 
true,  as  he  assured  Dr.  Monsey,  that  he  never  was  in  company  with 
Dr.  Johnson  but  he  felt  awe  from  the  recollection  that  the  doctor  had 
once  been  his  schoolmaster,  though  for  thirty  years  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  face  multitudes  in  the  theatres,  and  had  been  introduced  to 
persons  of  the  highest  rank  in  this  and  other  countries. 

As  an  author  Garrick  appears  to  great  advantage.  His  share  in 
the  comedy  of  a  The  Clandestine  Marriage"  was  considerable,  and 
highly  to  the  credit  of  his  genius  as  a  dramatic  writer,  as  it  has  been 


G  ARRICK  BARRY. 


199 


understood  that  the  entire  character  of  Lord  Ogleby  was  his  compo- 
sition. His  farces  are  all  excellent,  and  admirably  calculated  for 
dramatic  effect.  His  prologues  and  epilogues  are  more  in  number 
and  equal  to  those  of  any  other  writer  of  similar  productions.  There 
is  great  merit  in  his  poem  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Pelham,  and  his 
epigrams  are  all  neat  and  well  pointed. 

It  has  been  generally  supposed  that,  because  he  lived  some  time 
with  Mrs.  Woffington,  he  wrote  those  lines  on  her  beginning  with 

"  Once  more  I'll  tune  the  vocal  shell," 

each  stanza  ending  with  "  My  Peggy ;"  but  they  were  written  by  Sir 
Charles  Hanbury  Williams,  and  are  to  be  found  in  his  works  as 
published  by  Lord  Holland. 

I  have  been  assured  by  the  late  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley,  that 
Garrick's  table  was  always  plentiful,  elegant,  and  conducted  with  the 
true  spirit  of  hospitality.  Sir  Henry  was  intimate  with  Garrick,  and 
well  knew  himself  how  to  entertain  with  spirit  and  elegance. 

Garrick,  as  I  was  assured  by  Dr.  Monsey,  peculiarly  excelled  in 
relating  a  humorous  story.  To  one  in  particular,  though  of  a  trifling 
nature,  I  am  told  he  gave  irresistible  effect.  A  man  named  Jones 
had  undertaken  to  eat  a  bushel  of  beans  with  a  proportionable  quan- 
tity of  bacon.  A  vast  crowd  assembled  before  the  front  of  a  public 
house  at  Kensington  Gravel-pits,  and  Garrick  happened  to  be  present. 
The  crowd  were  there  a  long  time  before  the  man  appeared,  and  he 
came  forward  without  his  coat,  and  his  shirt-sleeves  tied  with  red 
ribands.  He  was  well  received,  and  a  large  dish  of  boiled  beans 
with  a  huge  lump  of  bacon  was  placed  before  him  ;  he  began  to  eat 
with  vigour,  but  at  length  was  so  slow  in  his  progress  that  the  people 
became  impatient.  He  suddenly  arose,  ran  into  the  house,  and 
escaped  through  a  back  door.  The  mob  then  broke  every  window 
in  the  house,  tore  up  all  the  benches,  and  severely  ill-treated  the 
landlord  and  his  wife.  Garrick's  imitation  of  the  cries  of  the  mob 
before  the  man  appeared  ;  the  continual  noise  of  "  Jones,"  and 
"  Beans,"  to  bring  him  forward ;  his  imitation  of  the  man,  and  de- 
scription of  the  whole  event,  were  exquisitely  diverting. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Barry.  This  actor  was  the  great  competitor  of  Garrick  when 
they  were  both  in  the  meridian  of  their  fame,  but  as  Barry  was  in 
the  decline  of  life  and  very  infirm  when  I  saw  him  perform,  it  would 
not  become  me  to  enter  into  a  criticism  of  his  merits,  compared  with 
his  great  and  unrivalled  contemporary.  Infirm  as  Barry  was,  there 
were  majestic  remains  in  his  person  and  manner.    His  two  great 


200 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


parts  were  Othello  and  Romeo,  but  he  had  resigned  both  of  those 
characters  before  my  time.  I  saw  him  perform  King  Lear  after  I 
had  seen  Garrick  perform  the  same  character,  but  he  appeared  to* 
me  to  be  feeble  by  comparison. 

Barry  was  originally  a  silversmith,  and  kept  a  shop  in  Dublin 
before  he  was  struck  with  theatrical  ambition.  He  was  handsome- 
tall,  and  well-made,  but  not  having  acquired  the  Chesterfield  graces, 
it  is  said  that  the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  father  of  George  the  Thirds 
advised  him  to  take  a  few  lessons  from  a  dancing-master  who  was 
patronised  by  his  royal  highness,  and  Barry  was  wise  enough  to 
profit  by  the  condescending  recommendation.  I  was  told  by  a  friend 
of  Barry,  who  knew  him  well,  that  he  excelled  in  telling  Irish  stories, 
of  which  he  had  a  great  abundance.  The  same  gentleman  informed 
me  that  as  Barry,  from  his  previous  employment  and  habits,  had  not 
the  advantage  of  much  education,  he  was  unable  to  mingle  in  literary 
conversation,  but  that  whenever  such  topics  occurred,  he  always  con- 
trived, with  the  most  ingenious  address,  to  shift  the  discourse  to  sub- 
jects upon  which  he  was  competent  to  enter,  so  that  his  deficiency 
was  effectually  concealed  from  all  but  those  who  were  intimately 
acquainted  with  his  origin  and  pursuits.  He  was  said  to  be  remark- 
ably good-tempered  and  ready  to  do  kind  offices.  I  saw  him  perform 
Timon  of  Athens,  Horatio  in  "  The  Fair  Penitent,"  and  Lord 
Hastings  in  "  Jane  Shore."  I  well  remember  the  grandeur  of  his 
deportment,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  infirmities.  In  the  scene  pre- 
ceding the  removal  of  Hastings  for  execution,  while  taking  leave  of 
Alicia,  I  never  witnessed  any  thing  more  impressive,  and  I  remember 
my  agitation  was  so  great  that  I  could  hardly  keep  my  seat.  He 
peculiarly  excelled  in  delivering  a  soliloquy,  and,  instead  of  appear- 
ing to  address  an  audience,  he  walked  as  if  venting  his  thoughts  and 
feelings  by  himself.    He  was  a  great  actor,  though  not  a  Garrick. 

Mrs.  Crawford.  This  actress,  the  widow  of  the  eminent  actor 
whom  I  have  just  mentioned,  was  Mrs.  Dancer  when  I  first  saw  her., 
I  was  not  able  to  form  any  judgment  of  her  merits.  She  was  at 
that  period  brought  from  Dublin  by  Barry,  who  was  then  married, 
but  on  the  death  of  his  wife  she  became  Mrs.  Barry. 

It  is  a  strong  proof  of  the  good-nature  of  Mrs.  Barry  that  she 
could  subdue  her  resentment,  after  such  an  unprovoked  and  un- 
merited insult  as  that  passed  on  her  by  Mr.  Kelly.  Mrs.  Barry's 
voice  wras  sometimes  harsh,  but  generally  musical,  and  some  of  her 
tones  were  so  tender  that  it  was  impossible  to  resist  them.  It  was 
usual  with  her  when  she  had  delivered  any  impassioned  speech,  to  be 
inattentive  to  dumb-show,  and  to  appear  unconcerned  in  the  scene  : 
but  when  she  resumed  her  attention  to  the  character,  she  entirely 
recovered  her  ground,  and  excited  as  warm  a  sympathy  as  if  she  had 
not  displayed  a  momentary  lapse.  Her  Rosalind  was  the  most  per- 
fect representation  of  the  character  that,  in  my  opinion,  I  had  ever 
witnessed.  It  was  tender,  animated,  and  playful  to  the  highest  de- 
gree. She  gave  the  cuckoo  song  with  admirable  humour.  Her 
Cordelia  was  irresistibly  affecting,  and  so  was  the  whole  round  of  her 


MRS.  BARRY — MR.  AND  MRS.  YATES. 


201 


tragic  characters.    In  the  44  Irish  Widow"  her  comic  powers  were 
not  less  effective. 

After  her  marriage  with  Mr.  Crawford,  who  was  young  enough  to 
be  her  son,  her  talents  evidently  declined  ;  the  consequence,  accord- 
ing to  report,  of  her  domestic  vexations.  It  was,  indeed,  an  impru- 
dent union.  I  was  present  at  the  first  meeting  of  Mrs.  Barry  and 
Mrs.  Yates  on  the  stage  ;  and  the  emulative  efforts  of  both,  in  Alicia 
and  Jane  Shore,  afforded  the  most  gratifying  result  to  the  audience. 
Never  was  there  a  greater  struggle  for  admission  than  on  that  occa- 
sion. The  neighbouring  streets  were  as  much  thronged  as  on  any 
royal  visit  to  the  theatre.  Mrs.  Barry  held  forth  a  lesson  to  people 
to  watch  over  their  manners  as  well  as  their  conduct ;  for  she  who 
was  once  so  elegant  in  her  deportment,  became  rough  and  coarse, 
and  her  person  also  was  so  much  impaired,  that  in  her  latter  days 
she  had  the  appearance  of  an  old  man  rather  than  one  of  the 
softer  sex. 

When  Mr.  Stephen  Kemble  had  the  management  of  the  Edinburgh 
theatre,  he  commissioned  me  to  offer  her  handsome  terms  to  play  a 
few  nights  at  Edinburgh,  about  the  time  of  Christmas ;  but  she  de- 
clined the  proposal,  alleging  that  she  could  not  encounter  a  winter 
in  Scotland,  and  shrugging  up  her  shoulders  with  the  anticipation 
of  cold  just  in  such  a  manner  as  might  be  expected  from  the 
lower  order  of  women,  exhibiting  altogether  a  pitiable  degeneracy  of 
demeanour. 

Mrs.  Yates  appeared  to  me  to  be  the  most  commanding  and  dig- 
nified woman  I  had  ever  seen,  previous  to  the  appearance  of  Mrs. 
Siddons.  She  played  to  perfection  Medea,  Margaret  of  Anjou,  the 
Duchess  of  Braganza,  and  characters  of  a  similar  description.  I  do 
not  think  she  was  qualified  either  for  parts  of  tenderness  or  for 
comedy.  I  never  happened  to  be  in  company  with  her,  but  have 
heard  that  her  manners  were  easy  and  attractive. 

With  Mr.  Yates  I  was  well  acquainted.  When  I  knew  him,  he 
had  reached  a  very  advanced  age,  but  he  had  good  health  and  all 
the  spirit  of  youth.  I  remember  dining  with  him  at  the  late  Mr. 
Lewis  Weltje's,  on  Hammersmith  Mall,  when  he  told  us  many 
theatrical  anecdotes,  and  actually  gave  some  turns  of  a  hornpipe  after 
dinner.  He  said  he  was  in  the  theatrical  company  at  Ipswich  when 
Garrick  first  appeared  on  the  stage  in  that  town,  under  the  name  of 
Liddel,  in  the  character  of  Aboan,  in  the  play  of  "  Oroonoko." 

Yates  was  one  of  those  actors  who  think  for  themselves  and  dis- 
regard all  traditionary  gestures  and  manners.  When  he  had  a  part 
to  act,  he  immediately  endeavoured  to  discover  some  person  whose 
deportment  and  disposition  resembled  it,  or  searched  his  memory  for 
a  former  model.  Such  was  his  theory,  as  I  learned  from  him.  He 
was  not  so  sportive  as  Parsons,  but  he  was  more  correct  and  charac- 
teristic. He  performed  a  part  in  Cumberland's  tragedy  of  "  The 
Mysterious  Father"  in  so  unaffected  a  manner,  and  with  such  an 
exact  conformity  to  life,  that  it  was  the  most  perfect  delusion  I  ever 
beheld  on  the  stage  in  characters  of  the  familiar  drama. 


202 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Churchill  has  been  too  severe  on  him  in  his  "  Rosciad in  repre- 
senting him  as  only  fit  for  clowns  and  such  parts  ;  for  though  not 
qualified  to  perform  polished  characters,  yet  he  gave  those  in  middle 
life  with  correctness,  force,  and  impressive  effect.  His  Sir  John 
Restless  and  his  Major  Oakley  will,  perhaps,  never  be  excelled. 
But  the  part  for  which  he  was  chiefly  celebrated  was  Shakspeare's 
Lance  with  his  dog.  He  was  intelligent,  shrewd,  and  prudent,  and 
Jived  always  like  a  liberal  man  in  his  domestic  character. 

My  father  was  always  fond  of  the  drama,  and  became  acquainted 
with  many  of  the  actors,  of  some  of  whom  he  used  to  take  tickets  for 
their  benefits.  The  first  whom  I  remember  that  used  to  visit  our 
house  in  Hatton  Garden,  was  Mr.  Ackman,  who  was  but  an  inferior 
performer,  though  an  intelligent  and  worthy  man.  He  is  mentioned 
by  Churchill  in  his  "  Rosciad,"  very  slightly  indeed,  yet  the  very  cir- 
cumstance of  his  introduction  in  that  poem  proves  that  he  was  not 
wholly  below  critical  notice.  There  was  always  good  sense  in  his 
performances,  though  not  animated  by  genius,  but  his  figure  was  by 
no  means  calculated  for  heroic  characters,  whatever  his  talents  might 
have  been. 

There  was  one  character  in  which  he  distinguished  himself,  and 
that  was  Kate  Matchlock  in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Funeral,  or  Grief 
A-la-mode."  He  never  associated  with  the  lower  actors  in  public- 
houses,  but  kept  up  a  connexion  with  respectable  tradesmen,  gentle- 
men of  the  law,  and  medical  men.  *fle  lived  in  chambers  in  Gray's 
Inn,  where  he  was  found  dead  one  morning  on  the  stairs,  having  died 
in  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  He  was  much  regretted  by  his  professional 
brethren  and  many  friends. 

The  next  of  the  theatrical  fraternity  who  used  to  frequent  my 
father's  house  was  Mr.  Hurst.  He  had  been  a  country  manager,  but 
at  length  made  his  way  to  Drury-lane  theatre  during  the  manage- 
ment of  Garrick.  Hurst  was  a  tall,  stout  man,  with  a  great  deal  of 
sarcastic  humour  in  private  life.  He  was  a  favourite  of  the  ladies  in 
the  earlier  part  of  his  engagement  at  Drury-lane  theatre,  but  his 
method  of  courtship,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect,  was  not  such  as  would 
be  likely  to  be  equally  successful  with  the  fair  sex  of  the  present 
times,  whose  manners  in  general  are  more  refined,  and  their  knowledge 
more  enlarged,  than  they  were  at  the  time  alluded  to.  He  used  to 
call  a  young  lady  that  pleased  him  "  a  lovely  villain,"  "  a  dear  rascal/' 
and  similar  designations.  He  used  to  romp  with  them  and  disorder 
their  hair,  pulling  out  their  curls,  and  treating  them  altogether  with  a 
kind  of  rustic  familiarity.*  I  was  acquainted  with  one  young  lady, 
a  woman  of  good  sense,  of  taste,  and  fond  of  reading,  who  was  cap- 
tivated by  this  strange,  forward,  rough  courtship,  and  would  have 
married  him  if  her  father  had  not  interfered. 

*  This  manner  of  wooing,  howerer,  seems  to  give  some  support  to  Waller'* 

opinion  : — 

 Women,  born  to  be  controll'd, 

Stoop  to  the  forward  and  the  bold. 


MR.  HURST. 


203 


Hurst  was  an  actor  quite  of  the  ordinary  stamp,  but  I  remember 
seeing  him  perform  Sciolto,  for  his  own  benefit,  at  Drury-lane  theatre, 
which  he  played  with  great  feeling,  and  he  seemed  to  make  a  strong 
impression  on  the  audience.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Bucks'  Lodge, 
perhaps  now  extinct,  and  the  members,  I  recollect,  filled  the  front  of 
the  boxes,  in  all  their  official  parade  and  dignity.  Having  numerous 
connexions,  and  finding  his  salary  not  adequate  to  support  the  rank 
to  which  he  aspired,  he  became  a  brandy  merchant. 

While  he  was  performing  one  of  the  characters  in  "  The  Re- 
hearsal/' soon  after  he  had  assumed  this  business,  Garrick,  who,  in 
representing  Bayes,  usually  introduced  some  temporary  or  personal 
joke,  on  one  occasion  thus  addressed  Hurst :  "  Sir,  "said  he,  "  you  are 
an  actor,  and  I  understand  a  brandy-merchant ;  now,  sir,  let  me 
advise  you  to  put  less  spirit  in  your  liquor  and  more  in  your  acting, 
and  you  will  preserve  the  health  of  your  friends,  and  be  more  approved 
by  the  public/'  This  sally  was  well  received,  and,  as  Garrick  intended, 
augmented  his  customers.  After  Garrick  resigned  the  management 
of  Drury-lane  theatre,  Hurst,  as  I  understood,  went  to  Liverpool, 
where  he  was  engaged  as  a  performer,  but  age  and  infirmities  came 
upon  him,  and  he  relinquished  the  theatrical  profession.  An  unlucky 
circumstance  once  occurred  to  him,  which  naturally  excited  laughter 
among  the  audience.  He  had  a  row  of  false  teeth,  which,  while  he 
was  delivering  some  emphatic  passage  on  the  stage,  flew  from  his 
mouth,  and  he  became  inarticulate  till  they  wTere  restored  to  their 
former  situation. 

When  Hurst  was  first  engaged  at  Drury-lane  theatre,  he  was  foi? 
some  time  kept  in  the  background,  and,  therefore,  having  some 
literary  friend  concerned  in  a  newspaper,  a  paragraph  appeared, 
reprehending  the  manager  for  not  giving  suitable  encouragement  to 
his  talents.  Garrick,  who  was  very  sensitive  on  all  such  occasions, 
sent  to  him,  and  sarcastically  coihplimented  him  on  his  literary  talents. 
Hurst  assured  him  that  he  was  not  the  author,  and  imputed  the 
article  to  some  officious  friend.  Garrick,  who  had  not  a  resentful 
mind,  easily  overlooked  the  offence,  brought  the  actor  more  forward, 
and  occasionally  invited  him  to  Hampton. 

It  is  said  that  a  relation  of  Hurst  died  in  the  East  Indies,  and  be- 
queathed a  considerable  sum  to  him.  His  mind  had  become  imbecile, 
and  he  employed  the  chief  part  of  this  property  in  purchasing  dresses 
for  the  stage,  as  if  he  had  resolved  upon  resuming  the  management  of 
a  theatre ;  and  if  "  the  fell  sergeant"  had  not  carried  him  off  before  it 
w7as  all  gone,  he  might  have  been  reduced  to  a  precarious  dependance 
on  his  brethren  of  the  sock  and  buskin.  Such  was  the  fate  of  my 
father's  old  acquaintance.  Hurst  had  one  peculiarity  in  his  theatrical 
delivery.  Actors  in  general  drop  their  voices  at  the  close  of  a 
sentence,  but  he  uniformly  ended  every  sentence  with  the  rising  in- 
flection— a  circumstance  somewhat  strange,  as  the  other  practice 
seems  to  operate  by  a  sort  of  contagion  among  theatrical  performers 
of  either  sex. 

The  next  whom  I  remember  of  my  father's  theatrical  friends,,  but 


204 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


the  remembrance  is  faint,  was  Mr.  Adam  Hallam.  This  actor,  who 
was  a  well-educated  man,  and  a  perfect  gentleman  in  his  deportment, 
possessed  constant  good  spirits  and  a  lively  humour.  He  is  mentioned 
in  Davies's  "  Miscellanies"  as  so  good  an  imitator  of  the  deportment 
of  the  celebrated  Wilks,  the  contemporary  of  Betterton,  Booth,  and 
Cibber,  that  Rich  was  tempted  to  engage  him  on  a  large  salary  for 
seven  years,  at  the  end  of  which  he  was  dismissed,  and  quitted  the 
stage.  He,  however,  was  allowed  the  privilege  of  issuing  tickets 
every  season  for  his  benefit,  half  of  which  was  for  the  theatre  and 
half  for  himself.  This  practice  is  still  in  use,  I  believe,  at  both  the 
London  theatres. 

As  Mr.  Haljam  derived  his  chief  support  from  this  resource,  it  is 
probable  that  he  had  many  friends.  He  is  mentioned  with  respect 
and  gratitude  by  Mrs.  Clarke  in  her  own  "Memoirs,"  as  having  re- 
ceived great  kindness  from  him  in  the  hour  of  adversity.  Mrs. 
Clarke  was  the  youngest  daughter  of  Colley  Cibber.  She  was 
married  to  Mr.  Clarke,  one  of  the  musicians  of  the  theatre.  Her 
life  was  dissipated,  if  not  profligate,  and  she  was  banished  from  the 
parental  roof.  On  the  death  of  her  husband,  she  became  very  much 
embarrassed,  and  to  protect  herself  from  creditors,  during  the  time 
that  marriages  were  easily  performed  at  the  Fleet  prison,  she  gave  a 
small  sum  to  an  old  fisherman,  who  stood  at  a  stall  in  Fleet-market, 
to  marry  her.  She  obtained  a  certificate  of  the  marriage,  and  quitted 
her  husband,  who  never  saw  her  again.  My  father  remembered  the 
man,  who  was  old  and  little  better  than  an  idiot,  whom  it  would  have 
been  madness  to  trouble  for  the  debts  of  his  wife. 

Mr.  Hallam  translated  the  "  Beggar's  Opera"  into  French,  and 
carried  it  to  Paris,  in  hopes  of  procuring  a  representation  of  it  on  the 
French  stage,  but  the  manager  would  not  consent,  unless  he  agreed 
that  the  hero  of  the  piece  should  be  hanged.  Mr.  Hallam,  from 
respect  for  the  memory  of  Gay,  would  not  suffer  the  piece  to  be 
altered.  Mr.  Davies  says,  that  the  translation  was  afterward  re- 
presented in  the  Haymarket  theatre  with  some  success.  Hallam 
was  the  uncle  of  Mrs.  Mattocks,  formerly  Miss  Hallam,  a  popular 
comic  actress,  with  whom  I  was  well  acquainted,  and  who  seemed 
to  be  much  gratified  when  I  told  her  that  I  recollected  her  uncle  in 
my  early  days. 

The  next  of  my  father's  theatrical  friends  was  Mr.  David  Ross, 
who  was  related  to  an  ancient  family  in  Scotland,  at  the  head  of 
whom,  in  his  time,  was  Sir  Walter  Ross.  Ross  had  the  reputation 
of  being  a  good  actor  in  tragedy,  and  in  both  the  livelier  and  graver 
parts  of  comedy.  I  have  seen  him  in  King  Lear  and  Othello,  and  if 
I  could  not  at  that  time  judge  of  his  merit,  I  remember  at  least  that 
he  was  much  applauded  in  both  characters.  He  was  admired,  I 
understand,  in  the  character  of  Wellbred  in  "Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,"  and  I  have  good  reason  to  believe  that  Colley  Cibber  told 
him  he  was  the  best  Young  Bevil,  in  "The  Conscious  Lovers,"  that 
he  had  seen  since  the  days  of  Barton  Booth. 

Ross  was  Master  of  the  Revels  in  Scotland,  and  the  proprietor  of 


MR.  AND  MRS.  ROSS. 


205 


the  Edinburgh  theatre,  with  which  he  parted,  as  it  was  said,  without 
adequate  security.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  pleasures  of  the  table, 
and  ate  himself  into  so  unseemly  a  shape,  that  he  could  not  procure 
a  situation  on  the  London  boards.  I  retained  my  acquaintance  with 
him  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  and  as  long  as  he  remained  in  London. 
His  wife  was  the  celebrated  Fanny  Murray,  who,  according  to  the 
general  estimation,  was  the  greatest  purchaseable  beauty  of  her  day. 
At  the  time  I  became  acquainted  with  her,  when  visiting  her  husband, 
with  whom  I  used  to  play  at  backgammon,  her  beauty  was  more 
than  on  the  wane,  but  she  had  pleasing  features  and  an  agreeable 
countenance.  I  remember  her  showing  me  a  miniature,  representing 
a  lady  of  exquisite  beauty,  painted,  I  believe,  in  enamel.  She  asked 
if  I  knew  the  original  of  that  portrait ;  and  though  her  face  must  have 
undergone  much  alteration,  yet  I  could  trace  the  resemblance,  and 
she  seemed  to  be  much  gratified  in  finding  that  I  knew  it  to  be  a 
portrait  of  herself. 

There  was  nothing  in  her  manner  or  conversation  that  in  the  slight- 
est degree  indicated  the  free  life  from  which  she  had  been  rescued  by 
marriage.  Whatever  her  face  might  have  been,  her  form  was  short, 
and  by  no  means  elegant.  When  Ross  married  her,  he  did  so  from 
motives  of  real  affection,  for  he  was  then  in  possession  of  the  public 
favour,  and  had  a  good  salary  at  the  theatre.  She  was  certainly  not 
a  suitable  companion  for  Ross,  whose  conversation  more  resembled 
the  dialogue  of  Congreve's  wits  than  that  of  any  other  person  I  ever 
knew.    He  also  excelled  in  telling  a  humorous  story. 

On  the  death  of  his  wife,  being  unable  to  obtain  a  theatrical  engage- 
ment, he  became  embarrassed  in  his  circumstances.  It  was  reported 
that,  as  Fanny  Murray  had  been  originally  seduced  by  one  of  the 
noble  house  of  Spencer,  she  received  from  a  branch  of  that  family  an 
annuity  of  200Z.  This  allowance,  of  course,  ceased  at  her  death. 
Poor  Ross  therefore  represented  his  situation  to  the  head  of  that 
family,  and  was  allowed  a  moiety  of  the  annuity  for  the  remainder  of 
his  life.  I  never  certainly  heard  of  his  death,  or  where  it  happened, 
but  was  told  that  he  died  in  the  infirmary  at  York.  Such,  indeed, 
was  probably  the  end  of  my  old  friend,  after  having  represented  kings, 
heroes,  lovers,  and  all  the  illustrious  characters  of  the  drama,  even, 
during  the  reign  of  Garrick. 

He  held  the  powers  of  Garrick  in  the  highest  estimation  ;  and  when 
I  once  asked  which  he  thought  was  Garrick's  chief  performance,  he 
said  that  in  his  opinion  it  was  Hamlet.  As  a  proof  of  the  veneration 
in  which  he  held  the  genius  of  Garrick,  he  prided  himself  on  having 
been  born  on  the  same  day  in  the  same  month,  sixteen  years  after 
that  unrivalled  ornament  of  the  stage,  and  on  having  been  christened 
by  the  name  of  David. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  mention  in  honour  of  his  wife,  that,  just 
before  the  marriage  ceremony  was  performed,  the  officiating  priest 
desired  the  bride  to  withdraw  with  him  for  a  few  minutes  into  the 
vestry-room.  She  consented,  and  he,  delicately  but  solemnly  alluding 
to  her  past  life,  told  her  that  marriage  was  an  awful  and  a  sacred  tie, 

K 


206 


RECORDS  0P  MY  LIFE. 


and  that  unless  she  had  determined  to  forsake  all  others  and  cleavs 
only  to  her  future  husband,  she  would  plunge  herself  into  dreadful 
guilt  by  entering  into  the  holy  state.  She  appeared  to  be  much  af- 
fected at  his  doubts,  but  mildly  assured  him  that  it  was  her  fixed  reso- 
lution to  lead  a  new  life,  and  thereby  endeavour  to  atone  for  former 
errors.  The  ceremony  was  then  performed,  and  from  that  moment 
her  conduct  was  unimpeached,  and  probably  unimpeachable. 

Poor  Ross,  when  his  age  and  size  prevented  his  being  reinstated 
on  the  London  boards,  used  to  vent  his  complaints  against  the  mana- 
gers in  homely  but  emphatic  terms.  I  remember  some  of  his  repining 
language,  which  was  as  follows:  "They  (the  managers)  will  not  let 
me  follow  my  business,  work  at  my  trade,  and  earn  my  bread."  The 
truth  is,  that  he  was  too  indulgent  to  his  appetite. 

Churchill  says  of  him,  loo  justly,  in  the  "  Rosciad :" 

Ross,  a  misfortune  that  we  often  meet, 
Was  fast  asleep  at  fair  Statira's  feet; 
Stalira,  with  her  hero  lu  agree, 
Stood  on  her  feet  as  fast  asieep  as  he. 

I  remember  to  have  asked  him  who  was  the  Statira  alluded  to,  and 
he  said  that  he  did  not  recollect,  but  believed  it  was  Mrs.  Bellamy. 

Ross  was,  indeed,  too  apt  to  slumber  over  some  scenes,  and  upon 
one  occasion  received  such  a  rough  rebuke  from  the  audience  as 
roused  him  into  active  exertion,  and  he  then  threw  out  such  striking 
and  impressive  beauties  that  censure  was  immediately  converted  into 
the  warmest  approbation.  He  was  a  very  tardy  paymaster,  and  at 
one  time  when  he  was  in  arrears  with  his  laundress,  and  she  had 
brought  his  linen,  she  declared  she  would  not  leave  it  till  he  paid 
her  what  was  her  due.  The  footman  told  his  master  what  she  said, 
when  he  desired  her  to  be  shown  up-stairs.  She  was  told  to  place 
her  basket  on  the  ground,  and  Ross  drew  it  near  the  bed-room  door. 
He  examined  the  linen  to  see  if  it  was  right,  taking  his  shirts  and 
other  articles  one  by  one,  and  throwing  them  upon  the  bed.  When 
he  had  emptied  the  basket  and  locked  the  door, "  Now,  madam/'  said 
he,  "  for  your  impudent  speech  I  shall  not  pay  you  till  I  please."  The 
poor  woman,  mortified  to  be  thus  overreached  and  disappointed,  burst 
into  tears ;  and  then  Ross  had  the  good-nature  to  relent  and  pay  her 
demand.  If  she  had  acted  otherwise,  it  is  probable  the  pay-day 
would  have  been  adjourned  sine  die. 

I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  more  than  one  portrait  of  Ross, 
though  I  have  a  faint  notion  that  there  is  a  print  of  him  in  the  character 
of  Comm.  The  portrait  I  allude  to  was  a  whole-length  of  him  painted 
by  Zoffani,  of  the  same  size  as  his  admirable  dramatic  portraits  of  Gar- 
rick,  Foote,  Palmer,  <&c.  I  went  to  see  it  at  the  house  of  the  artist, 
by  Ross's  desire.  He  is  represented  in  the  character  of  Hamlet.  It 
is  a  very  correct  likeness  both  of  his  figure  and  features.  He  told 
me  that  it  was  painted  for  Sir  Walter  Ross,  the  head  of  his  family, 
and  was  to  be  sent  to  Scotland.  To  my  surprise,  I  saw  this  identical 
picture  in  the  dramatic  gallery  of  Mr.  Matthews,  the  comic  actor,  oa 


NED  SIIUTER. 


207 


the  Highgate  road.  I  naturally  asked  Mr.  Matthews  how  he  became 
possessed  of  it ;  and  he  told  me  that  he  bought  it  of  Mr.  Rock,  a  good 
representative  of  low  Irish  parts  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  who 
was  afterward  engaged  in  Scotland. 

The  last  time  I  saw  Ross  perform  was  in  the  character  of  Strick- 
land in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Suspicious  Husband."  If  he  had  been 
contented  to  resign  the  higher  characters  of  tragedy  when  his  figure 
became  unfit  for  them,  and  had  confined  himself  to  the  level  of  such 
characters  as  Strickland,  it  is  probable  that  he  would  not  have  wanted 
an  engagement  at  Covent  Garden  theatre  ;  as  from  his  education,, 
good  sense,  and  knowledge  of  life,  lie  was  much  better  calculated  to 
do  justice  to  them  than  those  to  whom  such  characters  are  usually 
assigned.  v 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Mr.  Siiuter,  or  Ned  Shuter,  as  he  was  usually  styled,  was  a  comic 
actor  of  first-rate  ability,  and  I  have  been  assured  that  Mr.  Garrick 
pronounced  him  the  greatest  comic  genius  he  had  ever  seen.  I  re- 
member him  in  Justice  Woodcock,  Scrub,  Peachum,  and  Sir  Francis 
Gripe.  As  far  as  I  can  remember  him,  his  acting  was  a  compound 
of  truth,  simplicity,  and  luxuriant  humour,  if  such  qualities  can  unite 
and  be  coexistent.  Never  was  an  actor  more  popular  than  Shuter, 
yet  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  more  than  one  or  two  prints  of 
him,  from  pictures  by  ZofFani,  in  dramatic  scenes,  while  there  are  in- 
numerable representations  of  Liston  in  prints,  plaster  of  Paris,  and 
other  forms.  But  the  arts  have  improved  surprisingly  since  the  days 
of  Shuter. 

Here  I  must  pause  to  say,  that  Liston  is  one  of  the  most  original  actors 
whom  I  ever  saw,  and  in  some  characters  he  is  irresistibly  diverting. 
I  remember  that  soon  after  the  public  became  sensible  of  his  merit, 
Mrs.  Abington  asked  me  if  I  liked  him,  and  having  expressed  my 
high  opinion  of  his  comic  talents,  she  said,  "For  my  part,  I  doat  on 
him,  and  the  more  so  because  he  is  as  ugly  as  myself."  This  favour- 
able opinion,  given  by  an  admirable  comic  actress,  of  long  experience, 
and  who  had  seen  so  many  first-rate  performers,  must  be  acceptable 
to  Mr.  Liston,  though  not  complimentary  to  his  person.  Churchill 
says  of  Shuter  in  his  "  Rosciad," — ■ 

Shuter,  who  never  eared  a  single  pin, 
Whether  he  left  out  nonsense  or  put  in. 

This  was  really  a  true  description  of  the  actor,  except  that  he  pos- 
sessed genuine  humour,  and  whenever  he  sported  an  addition  to  the 
dialogue,  it  was  always  analogous  to  the  character  which  he  was  per- 
forming. 

K2 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


To  Shuter  I  was  introduced  by  my  father  when  I  was  very  young, 
and  remember  passing  an  evening  with  my  father  and  him  at  a  tavern 
called  the  Blue  Posts,  in  Russell-street,  Covent  Garden.  All  the 
company  who  were  in  the  other  boxes  devoted  their  whole  attention 
to  Shuter,  who  told  humorous  stories,  or  uttered  bons-mots,  which  de- 
lighted his  hearers.  Some  time  after,  going  through  Hart-street, 
Bloomsbury,  about  twelve  in  the  morning,  I  saw  Shuter  smartly 
dressed,  and  could  not  help  making  myself  known  to  him.  He  said 
he  was  glad  to  "  see  a  chip  of  the  old  block,"  and  invited  me  into 
the  public-house  in  that  street,  to  partake  of  a  glass  of  brandy- 
and- water.  I  was  proud  of  the  honour  of  being  noticed  by  this 
popular  droll,  and  readily  accepted  the  invitation.  He  soon  began 
to  relate  some  theatrical  stories,  with  which  I  was  delighted.  I  re- 
collect, however,  only  one.  He  said  that  old  Hippsley,  the  actor,  had 
suffered  severely  in  his  face  at  a  fire,  which  gave  such  a  ludicrous 
cast  to  his  features,  that  the  audience  always  laughed  when  he  ap- 
peared on  the  stage.  He  once  consulted  Quin  on  the  profession  to 
which  he  should  bring  up  his  son,  whom  he  described  as  a  very  pro- 
mising boy.  Quin,  who  thought  that  all  Hippsley's  comic  merit  de- 
pended on  the  whimsical  turn  of  his  features,  roughly  said,  "  Burn  his 
face,  and  make  him  an  actor."  Quin  always  pronounced  the  letter  a 
broad,  as  in  brass,  and  in  that  manner  Shuter  related  the  story. 

Hippsley,  I  understood,  was  reputed  a  good  comic  actor  before 
he  suffered  by  the  accident.  He  was  celebrated  for  delivering  a 
soliloquy  of  his  own  composing,  called  "  Hippsley's  Drunken  Man." 
He  was  the  father  of  Mrs.  Green,  an  admirable  actress  in  the  virago 
parts  of  comedy,  and  the  first  old  Margaret  in  the  opera  of  "  The 
Duenna." 

There  was  a  place  within  my  remembrance  called  Finch's  Grotto 
Gardens.  It  was  a  minor  Vauxhall,  and  was  situated  near  the  King's 
Bench  prison.  There  was  a  grotto  in  the  middle  of  the  garden,  an 
orchestra,  and  a  rotunda.  The  price  of  admission  was  sixpence, 
and  the  place  was  much  frequented.  When  the  musical  powers  of 
Lowe,  generally  called  Tom  or  Tommy  Lowe,  were  so  much  im- 
paired that  he  could  not  procure  an  engagement  at  the  patent  thea- 
tres, he  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  accepting  one  at  these  Grotto 
Gardens,  and  his  first  appearance  was  announced  in  the  newspapers. 
As  my  father  was  well  acquainted  with  Lowe  in  his  prosperity,  he 
took  me  with  him  to  assist  in  cheering  him  on  his  appearance.  There 
we  found  Shuter,  with  some  friends,  ready  to  encourage  his  old  as- 
sociate. Lowe  sung  a  hunting-song  with  evident  decay  of  musical 
talents  ;  but  when  it  was  ended,  Shuter,  who  stood  immediately  be- 
low the  orchestra,  shouted  "  Bravo,  Tom,  your  voice  is  as  good  as 
ever  ;"  but  my  father,  who  had  known  him  in  his  best  days,  told  me 
that  Shuter's  applause  was  merely  an  effusion  of  friendly  zeal.  At 
the  end  of  the  concert,  Shuter  remained  in  the  gardens,  and  went  to 
sup  in  one  of  the  boxes.  The  place  was  crowded,  and  the  people 
thronged  round  the  box  to  hear  the  humorous  sallies  of  Shuter,  inso- 
much that  the  waiters  passed  with  difficulty  ;  there  was  a  great  de- 


TOM  LOWE. 


209 


struction  of  plates  and  dishes  in  the  struggle,  and  abundance  of  knives 
and  forks  were  scattered  over  the  ground.  No  person  thought  of  re- 
tiring while  Shuter  remained,  and  I  remember  seeing  him  in  the  midst 
of  his  friends  as  if  he  were  the  monarch  of  merriment. 

Lowe,  I  understood,  had  once  a  very  fine  voice,  but  had  no  musical 
science.  When  Handel  had  quarrelled  writh  Beard,  he  intended  to 
engage  Lowe  for  the  oratorios,  but  finding  him  deficient  in  musical 
knowledge,  was  obliged  to  make  peace  with  Beard,  who,  besides  pos- 
sessing a  good  voice,  was  a  sound  musician.  Poor  Lowe  was  at  last 
reduced  to  accept  an  engagement  at  Sadler's  Wells,  where  I  saw 
him  habited  as  an  old  barber,  and  referring  to  some  women  in  the 
scene,  he  chanted  in  recitative  the  following  couplet,  among  others  of 
equal  poetic  elegance  : 

Mop-squeezers,  I  hate  'era, 
By  this  pomatum  ! 

In  the  same  dramatic  piece,  Harlequin,  on  discovering  his  father,  ex- 
pressed his  filial  affection  in  the  following  manner  : — 

It  gives  me  joy  that  thou'rt  my  pappy  : 
To  do  thy  will  shall  make  me  happy. 

Such  was  the  pitiable  destiny  of  Lowe,  who  was  once  so  admired 
a  singer,  that  I  remember  the  following  passage  of  a  popular  song 
which  announced  his  vocal  merits : 

The  first  that  e'er  was  born 
To  sing  the  early  morn, 
Was  famous  Tommy  Lowe. 

When  and  wrhere  he  died  I  know  not,  but  it  was  probably  in  obscu- 
rity and  want.  Yet  he  was  once  the  proprietor  of  Marylebone 
Gardens,  and  had  kept  his  carriage. 

A  friend  of  my  father  who  was  acquainted  with  Lowe,  told  me 
that  he  saw  him  going  in  his  chariot  to  Marylebone  Gardens  soon 
after  he  became  master  of  them,  with  a  large  iron  trunk  behind  it, 
which  he  told  the  gentleman  he  had  purchased  to  place  the  profits 
of  the  gardens  in.  He  was  a  wrell-behaved  man  when  sober,  but 
very  quarrelsome  and  abusive  in  his  cups.  He  had  a  brother  who 
kept  a  public-house  in  Bunhill-rowT,  and  had  an  annual  dinner,  which 
Lowe  always  attended,  to  serve  his  brother  by  entertaining  the 
guests ;  but  he  generally  got  drunk,  then  became  quarrelsome  and 
abusive,  insomuch  as  to  excite  general  disgust,  and  was  more  than 
once  absolutely  turned  out  of  the  house. 

The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  in  a  narrow  lane  near  Aldersgate- 
street.  He  was  coming  out  of  a  butcher's  shop,  with  some  meat  in 
an  old  blue  and  white  checked  handkerchief.  VVith  an  air  of  covered 
pride,  he  told  me  that  he  always  bought  meat  himself,  and  that  no 
man  understood  better  how  to  choose  a  beef-steak.    His  name  is  to 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


he  found  in  all  the  old  song-books  of  Vauxhall  and  Marylebone  Gar- 
dens. I  never  saw  more  than  one  print  of  him,  and  that  represented 
him  and  Mrs.  Chambers  in  the  characters  of  Macheath  and  Polly. 

To  return  to  Shuter  :  he  was  never  without  a  joke  or  a  whimsical 
story.  He  used  to  give  the  cries  of  London  on  his  annual  benefit  at 
the  theatre  ;  and  the  day  before  one  of  these  benefits,  he  followed 
through  several  streets  a  man  whose  cry  of  his  wares  was  peculiar. 
At  last  Shuter  stopped  him,  told  him  he  was  Ned  Shuter,  and  had 
followed  him  for  half  an  hour  in  hopes  to  hear  his  usual  cry.  "  Why, 
Master  Shuter/'  said  the  man,  "  my  wife  died  this  morning,  and  / 
can't  cry? 

On  another  occasion  a  mendicant,  who  knew  him,  said  in  a  piteous 
tone,  "  Pray,  Mr.  Shuter,  give  me  something,  for  you  see  I  have  but 
one  shoe  in  the  world."  "  No  !"  said  Shuter.  who  never  could  con- 
trol his  waggish  disposition,  "then  there's  a  pair  for  you,"  offering  a 
Windsor  pea?"  which  he  happened  to  have  in  his  pocket.  Having 
however  had  his  joke,  he  liberally  relieved  the  man's  distress. 

Poor  Shuter  was  too  fond  of  the  bottle,  and  injured  his  health  so 
much  that,  though  the  character  of  Don  Jerome  in  "  The  Duenna" 
was  first  intended  for  him,  his  health  and  faculties  were  so  much  im- 
paired that  it  wras  assigned  to  Wilson,  who  somewhat  resembled  him, 
and  whose  performance  of  it  much  augmented  his  reputation. 

When  I  said  that  Mr.  Ackman  was  my  fathers  first  theatrical 
acquaintance,  I  had  forgot  his  old  friend  Mr.  Peter  Bardin.  This 
gentleman  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  one  of  the  established  per- 
formers at  the  theatre  in  Goodman's  Fields  at  the  time  when  Garrick 
first  appeared  upon  the  London  boards  at  the  same  theatre.  Bardin 
was  the  last  of  the  old  school  of  Booth,  Wilks,  and  other  actors,  who 
were  much  distinguished  in  their  day.  Bardin  gave  some  offence  to 
the  audience  during  his  connexion  with  Goodman's  Fields,  and  public 
hostility  was  so  strong  against  him,  that  he  thought  proper  to  with- 
draw from  that  theatre,  and  soon  after  became  the  manager  of  a 
provincial  company. 

Chetwood,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Stage,"  which  was  published  in 
1749,  has  introduced  Mr.  Bardin  among  all  the  chief  performers  of 
the  time,  particularly  the  Gibbers,  Garrick,  Barry,  &c.  and  refers  to 
the  event  which  induced  the  audience  to  be  incensed  against  him,  but 
does  not  state  the  occasion,  so  that  it  cannot  now  be  known.  Chet- 
wood speaks  of  Bardin  as  having  "  bent  his  thoughts  towards  the 
stage  very  early  in  youth,  and  as  having  seen  the  performance  of  the 
best  actors  in  England  upon  the  London  stages."  He  adds,  that  "  his 
long  intercourse  with  theatrical  action  improved  his  study,  and  that 
few  parts  came  amiss  to  him."  Though  he  does  not  state  the  cause 
of  the  public  displeasure,  he  introduces  an  article  taken  from  one  of 
the  public  journals  of  the  time,  entitled  "  A  small  Animadversion  on 
a  late  Officer  at  the  Playhouse."  Yet  this  article  is  equally  silent  as 
to  the  cause,  but  represents  it  "  as  a  private  dispute  between  some- 
body in  the  gallery  and  Bardin  the  actor."  It  may,  however,  be  in- 
ferred that  Bardin's  opponent,  instead  of  confining  the  dispute  to 


MR.   PETER  BARDIN. 


211 


himself  and  the  actor,  appealed  to  the  audience,  and  rendered  it  the 
subject  of  dissension  in  the  theatre.  The  author  says,  a  If  Bardin 
had  done  any  unwarrantable  and  injurious  thing  to  a  gentleman,  Bar- 
din  should  have  made  proper  and  ample  satisfaction  in  his  private 
capacity  for  the  offence.  The  audience  had  no  right  in,  nor  care 
for  Bardin,  but  they  certainly  have  for  Prince  Volcius ;  he  was  their 
player,  they  had  paid  for  him."  Hence  we  may  conclude,  that  as  no 
accusation  is  brought  against  him,  he  suffered  by  private  pique,  which 
raised  a  party  against  him. 

Bardin  had  been  intimate  with  Mr.  Donaldson,  whom  I  have  before 
mentioned,  and  also  with  the  Earl  of  Halifax,  and  had  reason  to 
believe  that  he  should  obtain  some  appointment  from  that  nobleman 
after  he  had  wholly  relinquished  his  provincial  theatres ;  but  though 
promised  his  lordship's  patronage,  he  lingered  years  in  expectation, 
and  all  his  hopes  at  last  ended  in  disappointment.  In  the  mean  time, 
he  supported  himself  in  London  by  engaging  in  the  wine-trade  by 
commission,  and  in  giving  instruction  to  candidates  for  theatrical  dis- 
tinction. He  afterward  went  to  Ireland,  and  by  his  connexion  with 
Mr.  Conolly,  and  other  distinguished  members  of  the  Irish  parlia- 
ment, obtained  the  situation  of  postmaster  in  Dublin.  Before,  how- 
ever, he  obtained  this  appointment,  he  came  to  London  with  Barry, 
when  the  latter  brought  Mrs.  Dancer  with  him,  and  they  were  both 
engaged  by  Foote  at  the  Haymarket  theatre. 

I  remember  to  have  seen  him  play  Gloucester  when  Barry  per- 
formed King  Lear;  but  he  did  not  appear  under  his  own  name, 
though  it  is  hardly  probable  that  after  so  distant  a  period  his  old  ene- 
mies in  Goodman's  Fields,  if  alive,  would  have  renewed  their  hos- 
tility. I  have  a  very  faint  recollection  of  his  performance,  but  as 
far  as  I  can  remember,  it  partook  of  the  formal  school  which  Garrick 
so  completely  overturned  by  the  spirit  of  truth,  nature,  and  appro- 
priate character.  It  may  fairly  be  concluded  that  Chetwood  would 
not  have  introduced  Bardin  among  the  chief  performers  in  the  bio- 
graphical part  of  his  history  of  the  stage,  unless  he  had  been  an  actor 
of  conspicuous  merit ;  particularly  as  he  declined  to  give  his  opinion 
of  Bardin's  conduct  in  the  affair  alluded  to,  but  rather  by  his  manner 
of  mentioning  the  subject  seems  to  have  disapproved  of  that  conduct. 

I  remember  Bardin  well  in  private  life.  He  was  a  true  specimen 
of  the  spirit  and  humour  of  the  Irish  character.  Though  advanced 
in  life  when  I  knew  him,  his  health  was  good,  and  his  spirit  unabated. 
He  was  intimate  with  Hugh  Kelly  and  the  wits  of  the  time,  who, 
with  my  father  and  other  friends,  were  fond  of  playing  at  skittles  at 
White  Conduit  House  and  Bagnigge  Wells,  before  he  finally  settled 
in  Dublin  ;  and  I  was  proud  of  being  employed  by  such  a  company 
to  set  up  the  pins. 

Bardin  was  esteemed  an  admirable  judge  of  acting,  and  an  excel- 
lent instructer  of  those  who  were  students  for  the  stage.  He  was 
particularly  intimate  with  Mr.  O'Hara,  the  author  of  "  Midas,"  one 
of  the  best  burlettas,  if  not  the  very  best  in  our  language.  He  sang 
all  the  songs  in  it  with  great  spirit,  and  must  obviously  have  been  in 


212 


"RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


his  youth  an  actor  of  considerable  talents  and  versatility.  There 
was  a  conciliating  heartiness  in  his  manner  that  I  never  observed 
in  any  other  person,  which  I  have  witnessed  on  several  occasions.  I 
was  particularly  struck  with  one  instance,  which  may  appear  too 
trifling  to  be  recorded,  except  that  it  illustrates  character  and  shows 
the  effect  of  manner. 

I  was  once  with  him  at  an  inn  in  Aldersgate-street,  having  accom- 
panied him  as  he  was  going  off  the  same  night  to  Ireland.  The  por- 
ter had  been  on  errands  for  him,  and  was  telling  him  what  he  had 
done,  and  how  carefully  he  had  disposed  of  his  great  coat  and  lug- 
gage. Bardin,  who  seldom  possessed  more  cash  than  was  absolutely 
necessary  for  immediate  expenses,  and  who  had  learned  prudence  in 
the  school  of  adversity,  listened  attentively  to  all  the  man  said, 
thanked  him  for  his  care,  gave  him  a  friendly  tap  on  the  shoulder,  and 
with  a  hearty  fervour  said,  "  Well,  my  friend,  there's  an  honest  six- 
pence for  you."  The  man  was  evidently  disappointed  at  so  small  a 
recompense  for  the  services  which  he  had  enumerated,  but  was  so 
overcome  by  the  open-hearted  freedom  of  Bardin's  manner,  that, 
scratching  his  head,  he  said,  "  Well,  I  thank  you,  master,  however  f 
though  it  is  probable  that  such  a  trifle  from  persons  in  general,  after 
such  service,  would  have  been  answered  with  reproach  and  abuse. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  the  reader,  that  it  is  recorded  of 
Charles  the  First  and  Second,  that  people  would  rather  be  pleased 
with  a  refusal  from  the  easy  and  gay  familiarity  of  the  son,  than 
receive  a  favour  from  the  grave  dignity  and  reserve  of  the  father. 
Mr.  Sheridan  had  a  very  cenciliating  manner,  but  of  a  very  different 
kind ;  for  he  would  speak  to  a  stranger  in  company  with  a  sort  of  con- 
fidential air,  as  if  he  had  been  struck  with  the  countenance  of  the 
person  whom  he  addressed,  and  thought  him  not  only  a  man  of  sense,, 
but  one  in  whom  confidence  might  safely  be  reposed.  This  manner 
seemed  to  be  wholly  unaffected,  and  was  generally  practised  upon 
his  creditors,  who,  however  angry  and  determined  to  enforce  their 
demands,  were  so  soothed  by  his  manner,  even  without  promises  of 
payment,  that  they  quitted  him  with  feelings  quite  altered,  and  dis- 
posed to  wait  a  little  longer.  1  never,  indeed,  witnessed  a  manner 
more  irresistibly  winning  and  effective. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Mr.  John  Henderson.  I  had  so  slight  an  acquaintance  with  this 
gentleman  that  I  can  speak  little  of  him  in  his  personal  character. 
He  was,  I  understand,  apprenticed  to  some  mechanical  art,  but  before 
he  assumed  the  theatrical  profession  was  admired  for  his  good  sense, 
humour,  and  imitative  powers.  His  introduction  to  a  theatrical  life 
must  doubtless  have  been,  as  is  usual,  upon  some  provincial  theatre,. 


MR.  JOHN  HENDERSON. 


913 


but  he  first  became  an  object  of  critical  attention  on  the  Bath  stage. 
He  first  appeared  in  London  at  the  Haymarket  theatre,  when  under 
the  management  of  the  elder  Colman,  who  was  not  only  a  skilful 
dramatist,  but  an  excellent  critic,  a  sound  scholar,  and,  as  I  have 
heard,  a  very  able  amateur  performer.  Henderson  excited  great 
attention  when  he  first  appeared  in  London.  The  character  was 
Hamlet,  and,  if  not  a  great,  it  was  certainly  a  judicious  performance. 
In  a  short  time  he  became  so  popular  and  attractive  that  he  excited 
great  jealousy  among  his  theatrical  compeers,  and  my  old  friend 
Ross,  though  a  liberal  man,  styled  him  "  the  tar- water  actor,"  alluding 
to  the  once  famous  tar- water,  recommended  by  the  amiable  Berkeley, 
Bishop  of  Cloyne,  but  which  had  only  a  fleeting  popularity,  and  when 
Henderson  appeared  on  the  London  stage  was  quite  forgotten. 

Henderson's  face  and  person  were  not  fitted  for  tragedy,  but  he 
was  an  excellent  comedian ;  and  though  his  Falstaff  was  the  most 
facetious  I  ever  saw,  yet  it  always  struck  me  that  it  was  a  mixture 
of  the  old  woman  with  the  old  man.  He  laughed  and  chuckled 
almost  throughout  the  character,  and  his  laugh,  like  that  of  Mrs. 
Jordan,  spread  a  merry  contagion,  which  might  be  said  to  infect  the 
whole  audience.  His  Benedict  was  so  close  an  imitation  of  Garrick 
that  my  dear  mother,  who  was  an  excellent  judge,  when  we  saw  it 
together  one  night  observed,  that  if  it  were  not  for  the  difference  in 
person,  she  should  have  thought  Garrick  w7as  performing.  He  was 
a  good  Shylock,  and  was  the  first  who  differently  pointed  the  follow- 
ing passage  ; 

"  Signor  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oft,  on  the  Rialto,"  &c. 

"  Many  a  time  and  oft,"  was  generally  considered  as  a  common  pro- 
verbial expression,  but  Henderson  pointed  it  thus : 

"  Signor  Antonio,  many  a  time,  and  oft  on  the  Riallo,"  &c. 

implying  that  Antonio  had  not  only  generally  "  bated"  him,  but  oft 
even  on  the  Rialto,  "  where  merchants  most  do  congregate."  What- 
ever the  critics  may  decide  on  this  alteration,  it  certainly  is  ingenious, 
and  shows  that  Henderson  was  disposed  to  think  for  himself. 

I  remember  that  Mr.  Brereton  the  actor,  one  of  the  handsomest 
men  that  ever  appeared  on  the  stage,  the  first  husband  of  Mrs.  John 
Kemble,  introduced  a  similar  innovation  when  he  performed  Hamlet, 
at  Richmond  in  Surrey.    Hamlet,  in  addressing  the  ghost  says, 

"  I'll  call  thee  king,  Hamlet,  father,  royal  Dane,"  &c. 

Brereton  pointed  it  thus, — 

•*  I'll  call  thee  king,  Hamlet,  father— Royal  Dane,  oh,  answer  me !" 

This  novelty  was  the  subject  of  newspaper  controversy  at  the 
time,  some  of  the  critics  contending  that  the  old  mode  was  a  pleonasm, 

K3 


£14 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


and  an  anti-climax,  and  others  that  Hamlet  was  wrong  in  calling  a 
spectre,  perhaps  prone  to  mislead  him,  "  Royal  Dane." 

The  only  serious  or  tragic  character  in  which  Henderson  made  a 
very  powerful  impression  on  the  public,  was  in  a  domestic  tragedy 
written  by  Mr.  Cumberland,  entitled  "  The  Mysterious  Husband." 
My  late  excellent  friend,  Mr.  William  Woodfall,  who  was  a  sound 
theatrical  critic,  and  a  warm  admirer  of  Garrick,  had  made  some  ob- 
servations in  his  daily  paper,  which  Henderson  thought  severe,  and 
the  latter  retorted  in  some  satirical  verses,  in  which  he  criticised  the 
critic.  I  have  been  told  that  they  were  very  sharp  and  ingenious, 
but  were  never  published,  probably  because  Henderson  did  not  deem 
it  politic  to  provoke  a  formidable  critic  who  presided  over  a  daily 
newspaper. 

Henderson  was  a  great  lover  of  money,  and  for  that  object  even 
sacrificed  his  attachment  to  an  amiable  widow  lady,  whom  I  knew, 
though  it  was  generally  understood  among  her  friends  and  his  that 
they  would  be  married ;  a  maiden  in  Wiltshire,  with  a  fortune  of 
5000/.  was  too  attractive  for  him  to  throw  himself  away  on  a  mere 
love-match.  The  widow  had  heard  of  the  matrimonial  negotiation, 
and  told  him  that  he  was  reported  to  be  on  the  eve  of  marriage.  His 
answer  was  that  people  had  often  disposed  of  him  in  wedlock,  but  he 
hoped  they  would  let  him  choose  for  himself ;  however,  in  a  few  days 
after,  the  newspapers  announced  his  union  with  the  wealthy  spinster. 

Henderson's  Iago  was  a  masterly  piece  of  acting  throughout.  He 
admirably  mingled  the  subtlety  of  the  character  with  its  reputed  blunt 
honesty.  His  manner  of  varying  his  advice  to  Roderigo,  **  to  put 
money  in  his  purse,"  was  remarkably  ingenious;  and  so  was  his 
manner  of  reciting  the  verses  which  he  composes  by  desire  of  Desde- 
mona.  In  general,  till  Henderson's  time,  performers  used  to  deliver 
those  verses  as  if  they  had  "  got  them  by  heart,"  to  use  the  common 
expression ;  but  Henderson  spoke  them  gradually,  as  if  he  was  in- 
venting them  by  degrees. 

Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan,  father  of  the  celebrated  Brinsley,  and 
Henderson  entered  into  a  partnership  to  deliver  public  recitations. 
The  serious  parts  were  to  be  spoken  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  the  comic 
by  Henderson.  Mr.  Sheridan  gave  chiefly  passages  from  his  "  Lec- 
tures on  Oratory,"  which  were  in  general  dull  and  heavy,  but  his  reci- 
tation of  "  Alexander's  Feast"  was  animated  and  impressive  to  a 
great  degree.  His  recitation  on  Shenstone's  beautiful  "Elegy  on 
Jesse"  was,  however,  languid  "and  heavy.  On  the  other  hand,  Hen- 
derson's recitations  from  Sterne,  and  particularly  his  recital  of  Cow- 
psr's  admirable  tale  of"  John  Gilpin,"  were  irresistibly  diverting;  the 
latter  rendered  a  tale  hardly  known  popular  all  over  the  kingdom, 
and  furnished  full  scope  for  various  artists  in  illustration  of  the  citizen's 
unlucky  journey. 

Here  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  I  am  under  a  similar  obli- 
gation to  Mr.  Fawcett  the  actor,  to  whose  humorous  recital  of  my 
tale  of  "Monsieur  Tonson"  I  am  probably  indebted  for  its  extrordinary 
popularity,  rather  than  to  any  intrinsic  merit  in  the  composition.  I 
£hall  always  regret  that  it  is  deficient  in  poetical  justice,  as  the  poor 


HENDERSON  AWD  T.  SHERIDAN — -TOM  DA  VIES. 


215 


victim  of  sportive  persecution  was  finally  driven  from  his  home 
without  any  compensation  for  his  ludicrous  sufferings.  Here  it  is 
proper  to  correct  a  mistake.  In  the  last  edition  of  this  tale,  with  in- 
genious illustrations  by  one  of  the  Cruickshanks,  Tom  King,  the  ttu> 
menting  hero  of  the  piece,  is  represented  to  have  been  the  late  Mr. 
Thomas  King  the  actor,  a  comic  performer  long  admired  on  Drury- 
lane  stage,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Garrick ;  but  the  Tom 
King  of  the  tale  was,  as  I  have  understood,  the  son  of  a  former  Arch- 
bishop King  of  Dublin,  in  1721,  and  I  have  understood  likewise  that 
the  tale  itself  was  founded  on  fact. 

The  recitations  by  Messrs.  Sheridan  and  Henderson  were  very 
attractive,  and  the  room  in  which  they  were  delivered  was  crowded 
every  night. 

Henderson  was,  I  conceive,  the  best  general  actor  since  the  days 
of  Garrick,  but  wanted  the  ease  and  variety  of  that  great  and  unri- 
valled master  of  his  art.  He  was  at  times  too  elaborate  in  finishing 
passages  in  the  characters  which  he  assumed,  as  if  he  was  anxious 
that  nothing  should  be  lost  which  he  uttered.  Hence  in  his  Sir  Giles 
Overreach,  though  a  masterly  performance,  there  was  much  of  that 
laborious  solicitude,  and  too  much  of  it  also  in  his  Pierre.  Mr.  Davies, 
generally  called  Tom  Davies,  the  well-known  bookseller,  who  was 
befriended  by  Dr.  Johnson  and  Garrick,  and  whose  44  Dramatic  Mis- 
cellanies" prove  that  he  possessed  literary  and  critical  abilities  which 
rendered  him  worthy  of  their  countenance,  gave  me  the  following 
couplet,  after  Henderson's  first  appearance  in  Pierre. 

Otway's  bold  Pierre  was  open,  generous,  brave. 
The  Pierre  of  Henderson's  a.  subtle  knave. 

The  great  pains  which  Henderson  took  to  render  the  minutest 
part  of  the  Venetian  republican  impressive  throughout,  gave  too  much 
occasion  for  that  metrical  criticism. 

Mr.  Davies,  or,  as  he  was  generally  styled,  Tom  Davies,  had  left 
the  stage  before  I  frequented  the  theatre,  no  doubt  induced  by  the 
cruel  humour  with  which  Churchill  describes  him  in  his  admirable 
"  Rosciad ;"  but  he  had  a  benefit-night  allowed  him  by  Garrick  for 
old  acquaintance  sake,  when  he  came  forward  to  perform  the  part  of 
Fainall,  in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Way  of  the  World."  I  happened  to 
be  present.  He  was  an  old,  formal-looking  man^and  totally  different 
from  such  a  person  as  we  might  expect  to  find  in  a  gay,  dissipated  " 
husband.  Before  the  curtain  was  drawn  up,  he  came  forward,  and 
addressed  the  audience  in  the  following  terms.  "  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, I  am  conscious  of  my  inability  to  do  justice  to  the  character  that 
I  have  undertaken,  but  1  hope  you  will  accept  of  my  best  endeavours 
to  please."  There  were  many  friends  of  honest  Tom  in  the  house, 
and  this  address,  as  well  as  his  performance  of  the  part,  was  received 
with  kind  applause.  Poor  Davies  did  not  attend  to  the  good  old 
maxim  hoc  age ;  for  if  he  had  confined  himself  to  his  business  as  a 
bookseller,  and  had  not  indulged  his  literary  ambition,  he  would  pro- 
bably have  lived  in  comfortable  circumstances,  though  he  might  not 


216 


KJECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


have  raised  a  fortune.  What  I  saw  of  his  acting  certainly  appeared 
to  justify  the  criticism  of  Churchill,  though  not  its  sportive  severity, 
Churchill  says — 

Behind  came  mighty  Davies — on  my  life, 
That  Davies  has  a  very  pretty  wife. 

Without  animadverting  upon  the  impropriety  of  dragging  an  in- 
offensive female  before  the  public,  it  may  fairly  be  concluded,  that 
Davies  being  an  avowed  politician,  whose  principles  were  different 
from  those  of  Churchill,  was  the  cause  of  the  poet's  hostility  towards 
him.  I  once  saw  the  "  pretty  wife."  She  was  quietly  sitting  in  the 
shop,  while  her  husband  was  pursuing  his  literary  avocations  in  the 
back-room.  She  was  in  the  autumn  of  life,  neatly  dressed,  modest 
in  her  aspect,  with  a  kind  of  meek  dejection  in  her  features,  which 
evidently  bore  the  remains  of  beauty.  It  is  lamentable  to  relate 
what  I  have  been  informed  was  the  final  destiny  of  this  harmless 
couple.  He  died  in  poverty,  and  was  buried  at  the  expense  of  his 
friends;  and  his  amiable  widow,  as  I  heard,  was  reduced  to  the  de- 
plorable asylum  of  the  parish  workhouse. 

Another  bookseller  whom  I  knew,  and  who  had  nearly  brought 
himself  into  similar  distress,  though  from  a  different  cause,  was  my 
late  old  friend  Mr.  Becket,  who  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  book- 
sellers in  London.  The  firm  was  Becket  and  De  Hont,  and  they 
published  the  most  valuable  works  in  their  day.  De  Hont  retired 
from  the  business,  and  went  with  a  large  fortune  to  Holland.  Becket 
was  not  equally  provident.  He  became  acquainted  with  Garrick, 
and  was  so  fascinated  by  the  conversational  powers  of  that  great 
actor,  that  he  devoted  to  him  a  great  part  of  his  time  every  mornings 
The  firm  of  Becket  and  De  Hont  was  held  at  a  respectable  house 
on  the  south  side  of  the  New  Church,  in  the  Strand  ;  but  when  the 
Adamses  had  built  the  Adelphi,  chiefly  over  old  Durham  Yard,  the 
depository  of  all  the  rubbish  in  the  neigbourhood,  Mr.  Becket  re- 
moved to  a  large  house  at  the  south-east  corner  of  Adam-street,  in 
the  Strand.  The  expense  of  this  house,  and  his  daily  attendance  on 
Garrick,  with  the  gradual  decline  of  his  business,  induced  him  to  re- 
move to  a  house  opposite  to  the  Shakspeare  Gallery  in-  Pall  Mall,, 
where,  by  blending  the  business  of  a  stationer  with  that  of  a  book- 
seller, he  was  able  to  support  himself  with  comfort  and  respect. 
He  had  the  credit  of  publishing,  in  his  latter  days,  that  learned,  poeti- 
cal, and  admirable  work,  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature." 

The  same  sort  of  mystery  hangs  over  the  origin  of  this  work  as 
over  the  letters  of  Junius,  and  the  heroic  "  Epistle  to  Sir  William 
Chambers."  The  suspicion  has  generally  fallen  upon  Mr.  Mathias,  a 
gentleman  whom  I  have  long  known  and  esteemed.  It  seems  to  be 
very  probable,  that  if  he  was  not  the  sole  author,  he  had  some  concern 
in  the  composition,  for  which  he  was  well  qualified  by  his  knowledge, 
his  abilities,  and  his  determined  attachment  to  the  good  old  political 
constitution  of  this  country.    When  I  was  one  of  the  proprietors  of  a 


"  THE  PURSUITS  OF  LITERATURE." 


217 


daily  paper  entitled  "  The  True  Briton,"  the  late  John  GifTord,  Esq., 
one  of  the  police  magistrates  at  a  subsequent  period,  was  the  editor. 
Struck  by  the  political  rectitude  and  moral  tendency,  as  well  as  with 
the  high  poetical  merits  of  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature,"  the  four 
cantos  of  which  were  published  successively,  he  entered  into  an 
elaborate  criticism  of  the  work,  upon  which  he  bestowed  warm  com- 
mendation. Soon  after  a  letter  was  addressed  to  the  editor  of  "  The 
True  Briton,"  pointing  out  the  poem  to  the  attention  of  the  public  at 
large. 

Meeting  Mr.  Mathias  at  the  King's  theatre  one  evening,  and  talking 
on  the  subject  of  the  poem,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  the  letter  in 
question.  I  observed  that  it  was  probably  written  by  the  author  of 
the  poem.  He  agreed  with  me,  but  said,  "  If  you  examine  it  well,, 
you  will  find  that  it  does  not  contain  any  panegyric  on  the  intellectual 
powers  displayed  in  the  work,  but  confines  itself  to  the  beneficial 
tendency  of  particular  passages,  and  the  general  soundness  of  its 
constitutional  principles."  Pursuing  the  subject,  I  observed  that  as 
he  was  supposed  to  be  the  author  of  it,  it  was  natural  to  suppose  he 
would  strenuously  recommend  it  to  general  attention.  "  Ay,  ay,'* 
said  he ;  "I  have  suffered  much  abuse  upon  the  subject,  but  they 
will  find  out  their  mistake  hereafter."  Whoever  was  the  author,  I 
could  not  but  feel  highly  gratified  that  I  was  complimented  with  two 
editions  of  it  "  from  the  author." 

Becket,  the  publisher,  who  was  faithful  to  his  trust,  and,  like  Junius; 
to  use  the  words  of  the  latter,  suffered  the  secret  "  to  perish  with 
him,"  was  a  good-humoured  man,  and  whenever  I  happened  to  see 
him,  I  always  pretended  to  suppose  he  was  the  author,  and  that  I  felt 
myself  indebted  to  him  for  the  copies,  adding  that  I  hoped  he  would 
soon  bring  forward  another  edition  of  a  work  so  honourable  to  his 
learning,  talents,  and  principles.  He  with  his  usual  good-humour, 
thanked  me  for  entertaining  so  favourable  an  opinion  of  his  powers, 
adding,  "  I  think  in  my  next  edition  I  shall  soften  some  passages  and 
strengthen  others."  This  served  as  a  laughing  joke  between  us,  till 
death  deprived  me  [of  a  valued  old  friend.  The  allusions  in  the 
poem  and  notes  to  my  late  friends  Mr.  William  Boscawen  the  trans- 
lator of  Horace,  and  Mr.  Henry  James  Pye,  the  late  poet  laureate,  a 
profound  scholar  and  able  critic,  a  good  poet  and  excellent  man,  in- 
duced them  to  vent  their  anger  in  two  spirited  poems,  and  occasional 
strictures  in  the  newspapers  ;  and  even  my  mild  friend  Jerningham 
was  roused  into  a  sportive  resentment  by  some  reference  to  him. 

The  late  Mr.  George  Steevens,  generally  styled  Commentator 
Steevens,  from  his  annotations  on  Shakspeare,  said  of  "  The  Pursuits 
of  Literature,"  that  "  the  poem  was  merely  a  peg  to  hang  notes 
upon ;"  but,  if  I  may  presume  to  judge,  it  is  a  work  of  high  poetical 
merit.  The  author  says  in  a  parody  on  Pope,  alluding  to  my  late 
friend  Mr.  William  Gifford, 

I  sit  and  think  I  read  my  Pope  anew. 


218 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Much  as  I  revere  the  talents  of  my  friend  GifFord,  I  cannot  but  think 
that  there  is  much  of  poetical  inspiration,  and  not  less  of  vigour,  in 
"  The  Pursuits  of  Literature  :"  and  I  conceive  that  the  character  of  the 
bard  in  that  poem,  considering  its  extent,  may  be  compared  to  some 
of  the  best  productions  in  our  language. 

Mr.  Mathias  published  a  pamphlet  on  the  subject  of  the  poems 
alleged  to  have  been  written  in  the  fifteenth  century  by  a  monk  named 
Rowley.  Mr.  Mathias  impartially  gives  all  the  arguments  pro  and  con, 
for  Rowley  and  Chatterton.  and  appears  to  decide  in  favour  of  the 
former.  It  would,  indeed,  be  the  height  of  presumption  in  me  to 
give  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  as  it  has  employed  the  learning  and 
sagacity  of  many  high  authorities,  but  yet  I  may  venture  to  say  some- 
thing. Chatterton  had  not  reached  his  sixteenth  year  when  he  pro- 
duced the  poems  in  question.  They  are  numerous,  and  display 
great  poetical  merit.  Chatterton  had  little  education.  He  was  vain 
and  proud.  Though  he  had  not  much  employment  in  an  attorney's 
office,  yet  he  had  some.  He  possessed  talents,  chiefly  of  a  satirical 
kind.  He  always  positively  and  solemnly  avowed  that  the  poems 
were  the  compositions  of  Rowley,  and  discovered  by  him  in  the 
manner  he  had  described.  He  had  no  books  that  could  furnish  him 
with  the  means  of  imitating  the  language  of  the  period  in  question, 
and,  considering  the  great  extent  of  the  poems,  the  mere  transcrip- 
tion of  them  would  have  been  a  work  of  much  time  and  labour,  even 
without  considering  the  time  and  labour  that  would  be  required  to 
fabricate  all  the  imputed  imposition.  I  therefore  presume  to  infer, 
that  it  is  not  within  the  compass  of  the  human  powers,  however 
precocious,  to  have  composed  such  works  at  the  time  of  life  at  which 
Chatterton  produced  them.  That  he  may  have  employed  the  lan- 
guage of  a  different  period  to  fill  up  the  chasms  and  give  unity  to  the 
whole,  may  be  admitted,  and  in  this  respect  his  ignorance  has  been 
detected.  Upon  the  whole  I  propose  a  question,  which,  as  far  as  I 
know,  has  not  been  asked  before  :  Would  Chatterton  have  been 
believed  if,  in  the  first  instance,  he  had  avowed  himself  to  be  the  au- 
thor of  Rowley's  poems  ?  Would  it  have  been  thought  that  with 
his  uneducated  mind,  his  limited  opportunities,  and  at  his  early  time 
of  life,  it  was  possible  for  him  to  have  accumulated  the  means  neces- 
sary for  so  elaborate  a  fabrication  ?  It  has  been  said  that  passages 
in  the  Rowley  poems  are  taken  from  Shakspeare,  Dryden,  and- 
others ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  he  had  any  of  the  works  of  those 
authors,  nor  are  the  passages  in  question  of  such  a  peculiar  nature  as 
not  to  have  occurred  to  any  poet  conversant  with  human  life  and 
nature.  Finally,  is  it  consistent  with  the  nature  of  mankind,  that;  a 
poet,  gifted  with  such  high  powers,  and  conscious  of  possessing  them, 
should  obstinately  decline  that  fame,  distinction,  and  patronage  which 
works  of  so  much  merit  were  calculated  to  excite  ? 

Having  mentioned  my  friend  Mr.  William  Boscawen,  the  translator 
of  Horace,  and  who  favoured  me  with  the  work,  it  is  but  justice  to 
his  memory  to  recur  to  him.  He  was  one  of  the  commissioners  of 
the  victualling  office,  and,  though  so  partial  to  the  muses,  he  never 


MR.  BOSCAWEN  AND  MR.  W.  T.  FITZGERALD. 


219 


suffered  them  to  interfere  with  his  public  duty.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  active  contributors  to  that  admirable  institution  "  The  Literary 
Fund,"  having  for  many  years  supplied  an  annual  tribute  of  verses 
in  support  of  it,  which  he  recited  himself  on  the  anniversary  cele- 
bration, as  long  as  his  health  permitted.  He  was  the  nephew  of 
Admiral  Boscawen,  a  naval  hero,  much  and  deservedly  distinguished 
in  his  day  ;  and  though  the  triumph  of  the  immortal  Nelson  in  the 
battle  of  the  Nile  eclipsed  the  glory  of  all  his  professional  predeces- 
sors, yet  Mr.  Boscawen  was  the  first  who  came  forward  to  pay 
poetical  homage,  in  a  very  spirited  ode,  in  honour  of  the  glorious 
victor. 

The  last  time  I  saw  him,  I  met  him  in  the  Strand,  on  the  very 
day  of  the  annual  celebration  ;  but  though  he  had  sent  a  poem  for 
the  occasion,  he  was  too  ill  to  attend  the  meeting.  I  had  previously 
expressed  my  regret  that  he  had  translated  Horace's  "  Art  of  Poetry" 
in  verses  of  eight  syllables,  and  he  assured  me  at  this  last  meeting 
that  he  had  taken  my  hint,  and  was  proceeding  to  invest  it  with  the 
heroic  measure  ;  but  I  believe  his  new  version  has  never  been  pub- 
lished. He  was  a  truly  worthy  man  in  his  domestic  life,  as  well  as  a 
scholar,  a  poet,  and  a  gentleman. 

"  The  Literary  Fund"  naturally  leads  me  to  mention  my  late  friend 
Mr.  William  Thomas  Fitzgerald,  who  was  one  of  the  most  zealous, 
strenuous,  and  persevering  friends  and  supporters  of  that  benevolent 
institution.  During  many  years  he  constantly  supplied  his  Parnassian 
tribute  at  the  annual  festivity,  and  recited  it  himself  with  such  energy 
and  effect  as  to  render  that  festivity  very  attractive.  If  his  health 
had  continued,  he  would  probably  have  supplied  an  annual  tribute  on 
every  return  of  the  celebration.  At  length  his  vigour  declined,  and 
he  was  unable  to  attend  the  meetings.  He  died  last  year  [1829], 
and  I  venerate  his  memory,  for  a  more  honourable  man  I  never  knew. 
He  has  thought  proper  to  mention  me  with  partial  kindness  in  his 
volume  of  poems,  and  I  am  proud  of  having  enjoyed  the  friendship  of 
so  worthy  a  character.  He  was  related  to  the  noble  family  of  Lein- 
ster,  and  was  generally  allowed,  to  be  an  accomplished  scholar.  He 
enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  late  Lord  Dudley  and  Ward,  one  of  the 
most  amiable  and  benevolent  of  British  noblemen,  and  used  to  pass 
much  of  his  time  at  the  hospitable  mansion  of  that  nobleman  in  town, 
and  at  his  magnificent  mansion  at  Himley.  That  estimable  nobleman 
died  intestate,  well  knowing  that  his  son  and  successor  would  amply 
fulfil  his  wishes  without  the  formality  of  legal  distribution.  Judging 
from  the  present  noble  lord's  conduct  towards  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  late  nobleman  had  full  reason  to  rely  on  his  son's 
filial  respect,  affection,  and  duty.  Mr.  Fitzgerald  would  probably 
have  been  highly  gratified  to  have  been  honoured  with  notice,  and 
moderately  remembered  in  the  late  lord's  will ;  but  the  present  lord 
actually  presented  to  him  5000Z.  as  the  virtual  legacy  of  his  departed 
father.  Nor  is  this  all,  for  he  gave  him  permission  to  occupy  the 
house  in  which  he  himself  resided  at  Paddington,  rent-free,  where 


220 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Fitzgerald  died,  and  where  his  widow  and  family  doubtless 
enjoy  the  same  benevolent  privilege. 

These  are  imperial  works,  and  worthy  kings. 

Feelings  of  respect  for  the  memory  of  a  very  worthy  man,  a  good 
poet,  and  an  eminent  scholar,  induce  me  to  say  a  few  words  on  my 
friend  Mr.  Henry  James  Pye.  He  also  was  an  active  and  resolute 
supporter  of  "  The  Literary  Fund,"  and  often  added  his  poetical 
contributions  at  the  anniversary  meeting,  which,  however,  he  never 
recited  himself,  as  he  had  an  impediment  in  his  speech.  He  was 
once  the  proprietor  of  landed  property  to  a  great  extent  in  Berkshire,, 
and  was  member  for  the  county.  How  he  lost  that  property  I  never 
heard,  but  understood  that  he  was  a  generous  and  hospitable  man. 
His  learning  was  shown  in  his  translation  of  "  The  Poetic"  of  Aris- 
totle, and  he  published  many  poems  highly  creditable  to  his  genius  and 
taste.  His  largest  and  best  poem  was  entitled  "  Alfred,"  of  which 
the  founder  of  our  laws  was  the  hero.  He  also  wrote  a  tragedy  en- 
titled "  Adelaide,"  which  was  represented  with  success  at  Drury-lane 
theatre.  Mrs.  Siddons  was  the  heroine,  and  at  Mr.  Pye's  desire  I 
wrote  the  epilogue  for  that  lady  to  speak.  She  said  that,  to  show" 
her  respect  for  me,  she  would  speak  it  if  I  wished,  but,  after  playing 
a  long  part,  she  desired  to  get  home  as  soon  as  possible,  and  hoped  I 
would  excuse  her.  The  epilogue  was  then  assigned  to  Miss  Mellon, 
the  present  Duchess  of  St.  Albairs,  who  delivered  it  with  such  spirit 
as  might  amply  atone  for  its  poetical  demerits.  Mr.  Pye  conde- 
scended to  submit  to  me  some  of  his  official  verses  as  poet  laureate ; 
and]  never  was  there  an  author  who  listened  with  more  attention  to 
proposed  corrections,  or  was  more  ready  to  adopt  them.  His  house^ 
even  to  the  last,  when  he  was  one  of  the  police  magistrates,  was  the 
resort  of  genius  and  the  scene  of  hospitality.  He  published  a  work 
entitled  "  Comments  on  the  Commentators  of  Shakspeare,  with  pre- 
liminary observations  on  his  genius  and  writings,  and  on  the  labours 
of  those  who  have  endeavoured  to  elucidate  them."  He  affixed  a 
Greek  motto  to  the  work,  and  the  following  apt  quotation  from 
"  The  Spectator,"  No.  138.  "  One  meets  now  and^then  with  per- 
sons who  are  extremely  learned  and  knotty  in  expounding  clear 
cases."  This  work  displays  great  critical  acumen,  with  much  humour 
and  playful  ridicule.  He  also  published  "  Sketches  on  various  sub- 
jects, moral,  literary,  and  political,"  a  very  amusing  and  instructive 
volume. 

Mr.  Pye  was  a  very  affectionate  father,  a  very  pleasant  companion, 
and  a  very  warm  friend.  He  had  two  daughters,  the  eldest  of  whom 
was  married  to  an  officer  in  the  navy,  and  the  second  to  my  friend 
Mr.  Arnold,  the  proprietor  of  the  late  English  Opera-house,  and  the 
son  of  my  old  and  esteemed  friend  Dr.  Arnold,  whose  musical  works 
bear  ample  testimony  to  his  taste,  judgment,  and  learning,  in  one  of  the 
most  gratifying  sciences  that  contribute  to  the  enjoyment  of  private 
life  as  well  as  to  the  amusement  of  the  public.    Mr.  Arnold,  the  sonr 


MR.  PTE — TOM  KING. 


221 


I  knew  in  his  "  boyish  days,"  and  at  that  period  he  held  forth  a  prom- 
ise of  the  talents  which  have  been  successfully  displayed  in  his 
dramatic  productions.  I  would  willingly  bear  a  more  ample  testi- 
mony of  my  respect  and  esteem  for  him,  but  shall  avoid  every  thing 
that  might  be  thought  flattering  to  the  living,  and  only  express  my 
ardent  hope  that  he  will  be  able  to  re-establish  that  dramatic  edifice 
which  he  reared  with  so  much  zeal,  prudence,  and  enterprise,  and 
which  he  conducted  with  so  much  judgment,  discretion,  and  liberality  „ 

To  show  the  moderation  and  contented  disposition  of  Mr.  Pye,  he 
resided,  I  understood,  in  a  cottage  on  that  ample  estate  of  which  he 
previously  had  been  the  owner.  I  know  not  whether  his  official 
odes  as  poet  laureate  have  ever  been  published  in  a  collected  shape  ; 
but  it  is  proper  they  should  be,  since  they  do  honour  to  his  memory 
as  a  spirited  and  learned  poet,  as  well  as  a  loyal  subject,  and  a  worthy 
member  of  society. 

As  this  division  of  my  miscellaneous  work  began  with  actors,  I 
shall  take  leave  to  say  something  more  of  that  amusing  community. 

I  was  very  intimate  with  Mr.  King,  so  long  a  comic  actor  at 
Drury-lane  theatre  during  the  management  of  Garrick.  Mr.  King 
was  the  son  of  a  respectable  tradesman  in  Westminster,  and  went  to 
the  same  academy  in  that  neighbourhood  as  my  friend  Mr.  Donaldson, 
before  the  latter  was  sent  to  Westminster  school.  Mr.  King,  whose 
friendly  and  social  qualities  procured  him  the  general  designation  of 
Tom  King,  averse  to  his  fathers  business,  felt,  on  leaving  school, 
the  impulse  of  theatrical  ambition,  and  joined  some  strolling  companies 
in  various  parts  of  this  country.  He  made  no  scruple  to  relate  the 
various  vicissitudes  of  his  roving  life,  and  abounded  with  anecdotes 
of  his  rambling  theatrical  pursuits.  At  one  time,  when  the  company 
to  which  he  was  attached  was  stationed  at  Beaconsfield,  he  was  un- 
provided with  decent  apparel,  and  so  destitute  of  cash  that  he  walked 
to  London  to  borrow  a  pair  of  stockings  of  a  friend.  That  friend 
contrived  to  procure  a  bed  for  him,  but  he  was  obliged  to  walk  back 
the  following  day  to  Beaconsfield,  in  order  to  be  in  time  "  to  strut  his 
hour  upon  the  stage"  at  night,  and  perhaps  to  perform  two  or  three 
characters.  He  said  that  his  share  of  the  profits  was  three  shillings 
and  some  ends  of  candle. 

Before  I  became  acquainted  with  King,  Mr.  Donaldson  told  me,  if 
ever  I  should  happen  to  know  him,  to  ask  him  to  relate  two  stories 
which  he  mentioned  to  me.  I  did  not  forget  the  hint,  and  when, 
many  years  after,  I  became  acquainted  with  him,  I  circuitously  en- 
deavoured to  draw  his  attention  to  the  matter  ;  "  I  see  what  you  are 
at,"  said  King,  "  but  you  need  not  take  any  trouble  on  the  occasion, 
for  I  will  tell  the  stories  immediately."  He  then,  with  as  much  readi- 
ness as  if  he  was  telling  an  occurrence  of  the  passing  day,  related 
the  stories  in  question  with  great  humour  and  powers  of  mimicry. 

Mr.  King  unfortunately  had  a  strong  propensity  to  gaming,  which 
towards  the  decline  of  life  made  him  feel  the  "  res  angusta  domi" 
Upon  one  occasion  it  is  said  that  he  lost  about  7000/.,  and  that  he 
hurried  home,  went  into  his  bedchamber,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  asked 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


his  wife,  who  was  in  bed,  for  a  prayer-book  or  a  bible.  Mrs.  King 
was  alarmed,  and  apprehended  that  he  had  been  suddenly  seized 
with  insanity.  Whether  or  not  he  obtained  either  of  the  books  he 
desired,  I  know  not,  but  he  continued  on  his  knees,  and  fervently 
vowed  that  he  never  would  visit  a  gaming-house  again.  Unhappily, 
the  fascinating  vice  again  tempted  him,  and  at  length  deprived  him  of 
the  means  of  renewing  his  chance  of  regaining  the  favour  of  fortune. 

About  the  year  1782,  he  had  a  respectable  house  in  Great  Queen- 
street,  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields,  and  another  near  Mr.  Garrick's  seat  at 
Hampton  ;  and  I  believe  about  that  period  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Siddons 
and  John  Kemble  shared  their  Christmas  holidays  with  him  at  the 
latter  place.  He  was  then  easy  in  his  circumstances,  having  a  large 
salary,  and  usually  a  productive  annual  benefit.  His  society  was 
generally  courted,  as  he  abounded  in  whimsical  anecdotes,  which  he 
related  with  great  spirit  and  humour ;  he  was  a  very  entertaining 
companion. 

He  had  some  time  protected  Miss  Baker,  an  admired  dancer,  and 
having  unfortunately  broken  his  leg,  her  attention  to  him  demon- 
strated such  sincere  affection,  that  he  married  her  on  his  recovery. 
She  proved  an  amiable  and  affectionate  wife,  and  submitted  with 
patience  to  the  decline  of  his  fortunes,  though  it  was  the  result  of  his 
unhappy  devotion  to  the  gaming-table. 

As  an  actor,  he  represented  the  characters  with  a  reference  to 
human  nature,  with  which  he  was  well  acquainted ;  and  he  never 
copied  his  predecessors,  as  many  actors,  both  tragic  and  comic,  have 
often  done.  He  was  chiefly  excellent  in  representing  the  bucks  and 
bloods  of  the  time,  a  noxious  race  of  animals  that  are  now  happily 
extinct,  owing  to  the  strictness  of  police  regulations.  We  may  judge 
of  the  manners  of  the  times,  even  within  the  memory  of  our  veteran 
contemporaries,  when  we  find  that  a  learned  physician,  who  mixed 
with  the  world,  made  the  hero  of  his  comedy  mount  a  ladder,  and 
enter  into  a  lady's  chamber  at  midnight.  If  any  person  were  now 
to  adopt  such  conduct  in  private  life,  he  would  soon  probably  find 
Sir  Richard  Birnie  a  very  rigid  critic,  and  a  strict  observant  of 
"  time,  place,  and  action."  That  the  comedy  in  question  experienced 
some  opposition  at  first,  is  evident  from  the  following  epigram,  which 
was  thrown  into  the  author's  carriage  while  he  was  attending  a  pa- 
tient, and  which  found  its  way  into  the  newspapers : 

TO  DOCTOR  HOADLEY,  M.D. 

Dear  doctor,  since  your  comic  muse  don't  please, 
Turn  to  your  tragic,  and  -write  recipes.* 

Towards  the  decline  of  life,  being  embarrassed,  and  finding  it  diffi- 
cult to  procure  arrears  of  salary  from  Mr.  Sheridan,  King  quitted 
Drury-lane  theatre,  placarded  that  gentleman  in  the  public  streets, 

*  Quin,  in  his  usual  sarcastic  manner,  being  an  enemy  to  pantomimic  comedies, 
said  thut  "  The  Suspicious  Husband"  should  be  named  "The  Hat  and  the  Ladder," 
aKuding  to  two  incidents  in  the  piece. 


DR.  HOADLEY  MRS.  INCHBALD. 


223 


and  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Harris,  the  chief  proprietor  of  Covent 
Garden  theatre  ;  but  he  performed  a  very  few  nights,  as  Mr.  Lewis, 
who  was  then  stage  manager,  manifested  some  discontent,  conceiving 
that  some  of  his  own  characters  might  be  assigned  to  King.  This 
dissatisfaction  Mr.  Lewis  communicated  to  me,  and  afterward  to 
Mr.  Harris,  who  became  alarmed  lest  he  should  lose  so  excellent  an 
actor ;  and  King,  having  received  amicable  overtures  from  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, resumed  his  station  at  Old  Drury,  and  Mr.  Lewis  was  easily 
reconciled  to  his  old  manager. 
Churchill  says  of  King — 

'Mongst  Drury 's  sons  he  comes  and  shines  in  brass. 

It  is  probable  that  the  satirical  poet  here  intended  a  pun,  and  did  not 
intend  to  confine  his  meaning  to  the  character  in  the  comedy  of 
"  The  Confederacy,"  but  to  King's  general  excellence  in  brazen 
characters ;  though,  indeed,  King's  peculiar  merit  in  that  character 
was  unique,  and  hardly  admitted  of  a  parallel.  On  the  death  of  poor 
Tom  King,  his  widow  was  literally  obliged  to  live  in  a  garret  in  Tot- 
tenham-court-road, which  she  made  a  little  paradise,  and  was  chiefly 
supported  by  the  liberal  contributions  of  some  old  friends  till  her 
death. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Mrs.  Inchbald.  I  became  acquainted  with  this  lady  in  the  year 
178*2,  and  an  uninterrupted  friendship  existed  between  us  till  her 
death.  When  I  first  knew  her,  she  was  a  very  fine  woman,  and 
although  conscious  of  the  beauty  of  her  person,  she  never  indulged 
herself  in  any  expenses  for  the  purpose  of  making  it  appear  to  more 
advantage.  She  was  at  this  time  an  actress  at  Covent  Garden 
theatre ;  but,  though  she  always  displayed  good  sense,  and  a  just 
conception  of  the  characters  which  she  performed,  yet  she  never  rose 
to  any  height  of  professional  reputation.  She  had  a  slight  impedi- 
ment in  her  speech  in  ordinary  conversation,  but  it  never  appeared 
when  she  was  performing  on  the  stage. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  her  private  life,  as  she  has  herself 
given  a  brief  account  of  it.  It  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  when  she  was 
about  seventeen  years  of  age,  she  left  the  house  of  her  father,  a 
farmer  in  Norfolk  or  Suffolk,  and  being  strongly  imbued  with  theatri- 
cal ambition,  she  applied  to  Mr.  Griffith,  manager  of  the  Norwich 
company,  and  in  time  became  connected  with  many  provincial 
theatres  in  England  and  Scotland.  She  married  Mr.  Inchbald,  an 
actor  and  a  miniature-painter,  a  man  much  older  than  herself,  whose 
character  was  highly  respected. 


224 


RECORDS  Op  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Inchbald  had,  I  believe,  been  previously  married,  and  for  a 
season  or  two  had  an  engagement  at  Drury-lane  theatre,  under  the 
management  of  Garrick,  and  thought  of  that  actor's  merit,  as  all  men 
of  taste,  learning,  and  judgment  did,  with  the  highest  admiration, 
Mrs.  Inchbald  told  me,  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  her  life  she  was 
very  irritable  in  her  temper,  but  time,  reflection,  and  the  vicissitudes 
of  fortune  had  softened  and  subdued  her  natural  disposition.  She 
mentioned  one  particular  instance  of  the  warmth  of  her  temper 
when  she  and  her  husband  were  in  a  boarding-house  at  Canterbury, 
while  they  were  both  engaged  in  the  theatre  of  that  city.  Mr.  Inch- 
bald had  been  employed  all  the  morning  in  copying  a  miniature 
portrait  of  Garrick.  At  length  dinner  was  announced  by  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Inchbald  desired  her  husband  to  attend  it. 
He  signified  that  he  would  be  ready  in  a  minute  or  two,  but  con- 
tinued to  touch  his  picture.  Mrs.  Inchbald  then  urged  him  to  attend 
at  the  table  below,  but  finding  he  still  lingered  over  the  portrait,  she 
suddenly  seized  it,  and  in  a  moment  obliterated  all  his  morning's 
work.  She  expressed  her  regret  at  this  action,  not  only  as  it  was  an 
act  of  reprehensible  violence,  but  as  it  was  a  painful  outrage  on  the 
feelings  of  a  worthy  man. 

I  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  her  every  Sunday  morning  for  many 
years,  first  when  she  had  apartments  in  Russell-street,  Covent  Gar- 
den ;  next  in  Leicester-square,  and  afterward  in  Hart-street,  near 
the  theatre.  She  occupied  the  second  floor  in  all  these  apartments. 
The  first  was  in  the  house  which  had  been  called  Button's.  Mrs. 
Inchbald  was  then  engaged  by  the  elder  Colman,  at  the  Haymarket 
theatre,  where  she  produced  her  first  dramatic  piece,  entitled  "  I'll 
tell  ye  what,"  which  was  so  well  acted,  and  so  favourably  received, 
that  she  was  induced  to  relinquish  the  stage,  and  devote  herself  to 
dramatic  and  other  literary  pursuits. 

One  incident  which  occurred  during  her  engagement  at  Covent 
Garden  theatre  deserves  recording.  It  is  well  known  that  the  late 
Mr.  Harris,  then  the  chief  proprietor  of  that  theatre,  was  a  very  gal- 
lant man,  and  did  not  find  the  virtue  of  several  of  his  fair  performers 
impregnable.  At  his  desire,  Mrs.  Inchbald  attended  him  one  morn- 
ing at  his  house  at  Knightsbridge,  to  consult  on  one  of  her  plays  which 
was  soon  to  be  represented.  When  the  consultation  was  ended,  Mr. 
Harris,  who  was  a  handsome  man,  and  had  found  so  little  difficulty 
among  the  theatrical  sisterhood  under  his  government,  thought  that 
he  might  be  equally  successful  in  an  attack  on  Mrs.  Inchbald ;  but, 
instead  of  regular  approaches,  he  attempted  to  take  the  fort  by  storm, 
and  Mrs.  Inchbald  found  no  resource  but  in  seizing  him  by  his  hair, 
which  she  pulled  with  such  violence  that  she  forced  him  to  desist. 
She  then  rushed  out  of  the  house,  and  proceeded  in  haste,  and  under 
great  agitation,  to  the  green-room  of  the  theatre,  where  the  company 
were  then  rehearsing.  She  entered  the  room  with  so  wild  an  air, 
and  with  such  evident  emotion,  that  all  present  were  alarmed.  She 
hastily  related  what  had  happened  as  far  as  her  impediment  would 
permit  her,  and  concluded  with  the  following  exclamation  :  "  Oh  !  if 
he  had  wo-wo-worn  a  wig,  I  had  been  ru-ruined." 


MRS.  INCHBALD. 


225 


Though  scandal  was  formerly  not  uncommon  among  the  theatrical 
community,  I  never  heard  the  least  impeachment  on  her  character, 
nor  do  I  believe  she  ever  gave  occasion  for  the  slightest  insinuations. 
She  was  modest  in  the  estimation  of  her  literary  productions,  and 
often  expressed  surprise  at  their  success ;  yet  she  exulted  in  that  suc- 
cess not  merely  from  pecuniary  advantages,  which  were  then  not  the 
least  important,  but  because  it  raised  her  name  into  public  notice  and 
distinction.  She  carefully  noticed  the  amount  of  the  prices  at  which 
her  works  were  respectively  sold,  and  the  last  time  she  mentioned 
the  subject  to  me  she  said,  with  no  slight  gratification,  that  they  now, 
altogether,  sold  for  not  less  than  twenty  pounds. 

When  she  finally  quitted  the  stage,  the  loss  of  salary  induced  her 
to  contract  her  expenses,  and  she  actually  occupied  an  attic  at  a  mil- 
liner's in  the  Strand.  I  then  only  saw  her  when  she  came  down  to 
me  in  the  shop,  or  when  she  called  on  me  at  the  Sun  office  in  the 
same  street.  Her  next  residence  was  at  a  public-house  in  St. 
George's-row,  on  the  Uxbridge  Road.  The  name  of  the  house  was 
the  Hanover  Arms,  which  she  told  me  she  thought  was  a  pretty  title. 
There  was  a  private  door  to  the  house.  She  was  delighted  with  the 
view  over  Hyde  Park,  but  as  new  plantations  intercepted  her  pros- 
pect, she  removed  to  a  respectable  lodging  and  boarding-house  in 
that  fine  row  of  houses  called  Earl's  Court,  which  fronts  Holland 
House  on  the  Hammersmith  Road.  She  afterward  removed  to  a  con- 
tiguous row  of  houses  styled  Leonard's  Place,  and  finally  settled  at  a 
large  and  respectable  mansion  called  Kensington  House,  where  she 
lodged  and  boarded,  and  died. 

Though  of  the  Roman  Catholic  persuasion,  she  was  buried  accord- 
ing to  the  ceremonies  of  the  Church  of  England,  but  was  so  much 
respected  that  two  Roman  Catholic  priests  attended  the  funeral. 
She  was  buried  in  Kensington  Church-yard,  and  her  grave  adjoins 
that  of  a  son  of  the  late  right  honourable  George  Canning. 

As  Mrs.  Inchbald  made  so  conspicuous  a  figure  in  her  time,  and 
as  her  works  are  likely  to  exist  as  long  as  the  drama  and  literature 
of  the  country,  I  am  persuaded  that  1  shall  gratify  my  readers  in  gen- 
eral by  some  extracts  from  her  many  letters  to  me  in  the  course  of  a 
long  and  intimate  friendship,  which  nothing  tended  to  disturb,  and 
from  which  I  derived  many  of  the  most  agreeable  years  of  my  life. 
These  extracts  will  illustrate  and  do  honour  to  her  character,  partic- 
ularly when  it  is  known  that,  though  she  was  so  severely  economical, 
denying  herself  most  of  the  ordinary  comforts  of  life,  and  incurring  the 
imputation  of  avarice,  and  even  of  insanity,  on  account  of  her  ascetic 
privations,  yet  her  great  object  was  to  support  two  sisters,  to  assist  an 
unprosperous  nephew,  and  to  secure  a  provision  for  them  in  case  of 
her  decease. 

As  I  cannot  but  be  proud  of  the  friendship  of  so  respectable  and 
enlightened  a  character,  I  might  justly  be  charged  with  affected  mod- 
esty if  I  were  not  to  insert  the  following  inscription,  which  she  sent 
to  me  in  her  own  handwriting,  on  the  titlepage  of  her  comedy  enti- 
tled "  To  Marry  or  not  to  Marry." 


226 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


"TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ. 

"  From  the  author,  who  openly  declares  that  it  is  much  easier  for 
her  to  write  a  play  than  to  express  the  gratitude  she  feels  for  the  various, 
the  numerous  obligations  which  she  has  received  from  him." 

When  she  had  nearly  finished  her  play  entitled  "  Lovers'  Vows/* 
she  applied  to  me  to  write  some  doggerel  rhymes  for  the  character 
which  she  has  denominated  "  The  Rhyming  Butler,"  alleging  that  she 
never  could  write  poetry,  or  even  rhymes.  I  readily  consented,  of 
course,  but  found  some  difficulty  in  adapting  the  two  compositions 
which  were  to  be  delivered  by  the  butler,  to  his  supposed  vanity 
and  folly,  with,  however,  somewhat  of  a  ludicrous  humour  in  his  char- 
acter. The  lines  pleased  her,  and  were  adopted.  They  wrere  very 
successful  with  the  public,  chiefly  owing  to  the  admirable  manner  in 
which  they  were  recited  by  that  excellent  comic  actor,  Mr.  Munden. 

The  late  Mr.  George  Hardinge,  the  barrister,  a  nephew  of  the 
great  Lord  Camden,  and  one  of  the  Welsh  judges,  thought  so  favour- 
ably of  these  lines,  that  he  wrote  a  commendatory  letter  to  me  on  the 
subject,  though  I  had  not  the  least  acquaintance  with  him.  I  returned 
his  civilit}',  of  course,  and  once  afterward  passed  him  in  the  street, 
but  did  not  think  proper  to  make  myself  known.  I  had  another  letter 
from  him,  adverting  to  a  tract  of  playful  severity,  which  he  entitled 
"  The  Essence  of  Malone,"  upon  what  he  deemed  the  inconsistencies 
of  the  learned  commentator  in  his  "  Life  of  Dryden."  I  was  never 
introduced  to  him,  but  was  to  his  wife,  after  their  separation,  and  have 
seldom  seen  a  more  amiable  and  intelligent  lady.  She  was  also  a  very 
handsome,  and  what  is  generally  styled  a  fine  woman.  It  is  truly 
lamentable  that  such  a  woman  should  not  have  rendered  the  married 
state  a  happy  one,  particularly  as  her  husband  always  spoke  of  her  in 
the  highest  terms,  and  professed  the  strongest  esteem  and  admiration 
of  her  person  and  character. 

The  play  of  "Lovers'  Vows"  was  very  successful,  and  the  fair  au- 
thoress received  for  it  500Z.  from  the  manager.  Having  written  the 
prologue  to  the  play,  as  well  as  the  lines  for  the  Rhyming  Butler,  I 
received  a  letter  from  her,  requesting  that  I  would  call  on  her,  as  she 
had  something  particular  to  say.  Always  ready  and  happy  to  serve 
her,  I  went  without  delay,  but  when  I  arrived,  instead  of  speaking  to 
me,  she  put  a  paper  into  my  hand,  and  when  I  asked  her  what  it  con- 
tained, she  said  twenty  guineas ;  observing  that,  as  the  Rhyming  But- 
ler wras  a  main  feature  in  her  play,  and  as  she  could  not  have  pro- 
vided the  versification  for  him,  she  thought  that  she  ought  not  to  derive 
so  much  pecuniary  advantage  from  the  play  without  my  sharing  the 
profits.  It  was  in  vain  I  assured  her  that  1  should  be  ashamed  of  re- 
ceiving any  recompense  for  such  mere  nonsense  ;  she  insisted  on  my 
taking  the  money,  and  I  was  obliged  to  open  the  window  and  threaten 
to  throw  it  into  the  street  for  the  first  lucky  passenger,  if  she  refused 
to  take  it  back.  This  menace,  which  of  course  for  her  sake  I  should 
not  have  carried  into  effect,  induced  her  to  comply,  and  the  next  day 
I  received  the  following  letter : 


MRS.  INCIIBALJ). 


227 


"TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ. 

"  Out  of  the  twenty  guineas  that  you  threw  at  my  head,  I  am  resolved 
to  buy  half  a  dozen  sixteenths  of  the  lottery.  From  my  own  luck  I 
shall  get  nothing,  I  am  certain  ;  therefore  I  request  that  you  will  to-mor- 
row, about  three  in  the  afternoon  (the  time  of  drawing  ends,  and  they 
will  answer  for  those  undrawn),  call  and  go  with  me — afterward,  take 
three  sixteenths  and  the  number  of  my  three,  and  agree  to  share  in 
the  prizes,  which,  managed  thus,  I  am  certain  will  be  valuable.  If  you 
refuse  this  trivial  partnership,  there  shall  be  a  total  end  of  all  inter- 
course between  us  for  ever.  I  shall  buy  the  tickets  without  you. 
My  money  will  go  equally  if  I  have  blanks,  and  if  I  am  successful  I 
shall  impute  the  luck  to  you.  Come,  and  let  me  despise  the  gains  by 
'  Lovers'  Vows,'  in  comparison  with  our  gains  by  the  lottery.* 

"E.  Inchbald." 

Mrs.  Inchbald  was  censured  and  ridiculed  by  many  of  her  former 
theatrical  connexions,  and  even  by  some  of  her  private  friends,  for 
her  thrifty  habits,  which  were  imputed  to  her  extreme  love  of  money, 
as  she  had  derived  much  profit  from  her  plays  and  other  productions. 
Having  a  sincere  friendship  for  her,  I  told  her  in  a  letter  what  I  had 
heard,  assuring  her  I  was  persuaded  the  charge  was  unjust,  and  only 
ventured  to  tell  her  of  it  in  order  that,  if  there  was  any  part  of  her 
conduct  which  might  expose  her  to  such  a  charge,  she  might  do  jus- 
tice to  herself,  as  I  knew  she  generally  practised  self-denial  to  contri- 
bute to  the  assistance  of  some  relations.    The  following  is  her  answer ; 

"My  dear  Sir, 
"  I  read  your  letter  with  gratitude,  because  I  have  had  so  many  proofs 
of  your  friendship  for  me,  that  I  do  not  once  doubt  of  your  kind  inten- 
tions. 

u  You  have  taken  the  best  method  possible  on  such  an  occasion,  not 
to  hurt  my  spirits ;  for  had  you  suspected  me  to  be  insane,  or  even 
nervous,  you  would  have  mentioned  the  subject  with  more  caution, 
and  by  so  doing  might  have  given  me  alarm. 

"  That  the  world  should  say  I  have  lost  my  senses,  I  can  readily  for- 
give, when  I  recollect  that  a  few  years  ago  it  said  the  same  of  Mrs, 
Siddons. 

"  I  am  now  fifty-two  years  old,  and  yet  if  I  were  to  dress,  paint,  and 
visit,  no  one  would  call  my  understanding  in  question  ;  or  if  I  were  to 
beg  from  all  my  acquaintance  a  guinea  or  two,  as  subscription  for  a 
foolish  book,  no  one  would  accuse  me  of  avarice.  But  because  I 
choose  that  retirement  suitable  to  my  years,  and  think  it  my  duty  to 
support  two  sisters  instead  of  one  servant,  I  am  accused  of  madness. 
I  might  plunge  in  debt,  be  confined  in  prison,  a  pensioner  on  '  The 
Literary  Fund,'  or  be  gay  as  a  girl  of  eighteen,  and  yet  be  considered 

*  As  the  reader  may  be  desirous  of  knowing  the  result  of  the  lottery  adventure,  it 
is  proper  to  state  that  fortune  so  far  favoured  us  that  we  derived  about  threepence 
each  from  this  enterprising  adventure. 


223 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


as  perfectly  in  my  senses ;  but  because  I  choose  to  live  in  independ- 
ence, affluence  to  me,  with  a  mind  serene  and  prospects  unclouded, 
I  am  supposed  to  be  mad.  In  making  use  of  the  word  affluence,  I  do 
not  mean  to  exclude  some  inconveniences  annexed,  but  this  is  the  case 
in  every  state.  I  wish  for  more  suitable  lodgings,  but  I  am  unfortu- 
nately averse  to  a  street,  after  living  so  long  in  a  square  ;  but  with  all 
my  labour  to  find  one,  I  cannot  fix  on  a  spot  such  as  I  wish  to  make 
my  residence  for  life,  and  till  I  do,  and  am  confined  to  London,  the 
beautiful  view  from  my  present  apartment  of  the  Surrey  hills  and  the 
Thames  invites  me  to  remain  here,  for  I  believe  that  there  is  neither 
such  fine  air  nor  so  fine  a  prospect  in  all  the  town.  I  am,  besides, 
near  my  sisters  here  ;  and  the  time  when  they  are  not  with  me  is  so 
wholly  engrossed  in  writing  that  I  want  leisure  for  the  convenience  of 
walking  out.  Retirement  in  the  country  would,  perhaps,  have  been 
more  advisable  than  in  London,  but  my  sisters  did  not  like  to  accom- 
pany me,  and  I  did  not  like  to  leave  them  behind.  There  is,  besides, 
something  animating  in  the  reflection  that  I  am  in  London,  though 
partaking  of  none  of  its  festivities. 

"  In  the  midst  of  the  serenity  I  have  been  boasting,  I  own  that  I  have 
one  sorrow  that  weighs  heavy  upon  me.  Much  as  it  is  supposed  that 
I  value  money,  I  would  gladly  give  up  all  I  am  at  present  earning,  and 
something  added  to  it,  that  I  had  never  engaged  in  those  unwieldy 
prefaces.  I  have  had  my  memoirs,  in  four  volumes,  for  years  lying 
by  me.  A  large  sum  has  been  offered  for  them,  yet,  though  1  am 
charged  with  loving  money,  I  never  hesitated  when  I  conceived  that 
my  reputation  was  in  the  balance.  I  accepted  the  offer  made  to  me 
to  write  these  things  as  far  the  less  evil  of  the  two,  indeed  as  no  evil ; 
but  now  I  fear  that  I  should  not  have  encountered  more  odium  had  I 
published  my  life  ;  and  yet  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  might  have  been 
avoided  in  arranging  the  former  for  publication  to  my  advantage,  by  a 
proper  assortment  of  subjects.  As  it  is,  I  must  submit,  for  I  am  bound 
in  honour  to  obey. 

"E.  Inchbald." 

It  may  be  thought  that  I  wTas  officious  in  giving  occasion  for  the 
foregoing  letter,  but,  as  I  have  said,  hearing  her  character  arraigned 
for  avarice  and  meanness  among  the  theatrical  community,  I  deemed 
it  right  to  adopt  an  intrepid  sincerity,  such  as  friendship  demanded.  I 
remember  that  my  friend  Mr.  Richardson,  whom  I  have  before  men- 
tioned, soon  after  we  became  acquainted,  on  his  leaving  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge,  exacted  a  promise  from  me  that  I  would  tell 
him  whatever  I  might  hear  to  his  disadvantage,  that  he  might  reform 
if  the  charge  was  just,  or  defend  himself  if  false.  This  rule  I  have 
always  observed  with  those  dear  to  me. 

Mrs.  Inchbald  lived  at  this  time  on  the  south  side  of  the  Strand, 
opposite  to  the  New  Church,  and  her  apartment  was  an  attic  ;  and 
thus  did  she  deny  herself  many  of  the  comforts  of  life  from  motives 
of  affection  to  relations  who  required  pecuniary  assistance.  Such  a 
letter  does  honour  to  her  feelings,  and  I  am  proud  of  having  tempted 


MRS.  INCHBALD. 


229 


her  to  write  it.  The  prefaces  which  she  mentions  were  to  accompany 
a  new  edition  of  "  The  British  Drama,"  and  they  prove  her  pure  taste 
and  sound  judgment  in  her  critical  remarks  on  the  respective  pro- 
ductions. Her  novels  of  "A  Simple  Story"  and  "Nature  and  Art,'* 
manifest  a  full  knowledge  of  the  depth  of  the  human  heart,  and  of  the 
changes  of  disposition  to  which  it  is  so  frequently  subjected  by  the 
vicissitudes  of  fortune.  These  novels  will  live  like  those  of  Smollett 
and  Fielding,  though  of  a  very  different  description,  and  with  respect 
to  profound  knowledge  and  moral  tendency,  more  in  analogy  with  the 
works  of  Richardson.  What  are  the  boasted  novels  of  the  present, 
even  the  most  celebrated,  compared  with  the  four  greater  writers 
above  mentioned  ? — mere  phantoms  of  an  hour. 

Besides  her  well-known  plays  and  farces,  Mrs.  Inchbald  wrote  a 
tragedy  in  prose  on  the  French  revolution,  and  the  fate  of  the  un- 
fortunate Louis  XVI.  It  was  printed,  but  never  published.  She  sent 
a  copy  of  it  to  me,  with  the  following  note,  which  I  insert,  because  I 
cannot  but  be  proud  that  such  a  woman  should  have  paid  such  a  com- 
pliment to  my  opinion  : — "  I  am  undetermined  whether  to  publish  this 
play  or  not — do,  dear  creature,  give  me  your  opinion.  I  will  send 
for  an  answer  to-morrow,  or  if  you  call  here,  leave  a  note  if  I  am 
from  home." 

As  far  as  I  can  recollect,  I  advised  her  to  suppress  it.  With  respect 
to  her  memoirs,  the  following  is  authentic  and  ludicrous.  The  manu- 
script was  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  my  friend  Mr.  Alexander 
Chalmers,  and  a  more  liberal  and  judicious  critic  could  not  have  been 
found.  As  the  work  consisted  chiefly  of  that  portion  of  her  life 
which  passed  in  provincial  theatrical  companies,  before  she  came  to 
London,  and  nothing  of  what  occurred  after  she  was  engaged  at  a 
London  theatre,  when  her  mind  was  expanded,  and  her  knowledge 
augmented  by  an  intercourse  with  literary  and  other  enlightened  con- 
nexions, Mr.  Chalmers  advised  her  to  suppress  it,  and  she  submitted 
to  his  opinion,  though  she  was  then  in  narrow  circumstances.  She 
did  not,  however,  destroy  the  manuscript.  A  popular  publisher  of 
that  time  hearing  of  the  work,  waited  on  her,  and  offered  one  hundred 
pounds  for  it.  She  referred  him  to  Mr.  Chalmers,  who  had  decided 
on  its  merits.  The  publisher  hastened  to  Mr.  Chalmers,  and  learning 
from  that  gentleman  that  he  disapproved  of  the  publication,  observed 
that,  as  Mr.  Chalmers  was  a  grave  character,  the  work  might  savour 
too  much  of  youthful  levity,  and  be  of  too  piquant  a  nature  for  him  to 
relish,  evidently  conceiving  that  the  work  was  of  a  description  similar 
to  those  of  Constantia  Phillips,  Mrs.  Bellamy,  Mrs.  Baddely,  &c.  &c. 
u  Oh  !"  said  Mr.  Chalmers,  "  if  you  imagine  it  contains  any  thing  that 
the  chastest  eye  ought  not  to  peruse,  you  are  grossly  mistaken." 
Hearing  these  words,  the  publisher  started  from  his  chair,  seized  his 
hat,  left  the  room  abruptly,  and  hurried  to  Mrs.  Inchbald,  telling  her 
that  he  declined  purchasing  the  work.  Yet  this  man  has  come  for- 
ward as  a  moral  and  political  reformer,  and,  perhaps,  is  one  of  the 
Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice  and  Irreligion. 

It  may  appear  strange,  that,  as  Mrs.  Inchbald  was  a  young  and 


230 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


very  fine  woman  when  her  husband  died,  she  never  married  again. 
She  had  certainly  several  suitors,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that 
the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble  was  among  them ;  and  it  is  always  sur- 
prising to  me  that  she  rejected  him,  as  I  know  she  had  the  highest 
respect  and  esteem  for  him,  insomuch  that  she  never  mentioned  him 
without  applying  to  him  the  following  line  of  the  poet — 

The  man  for  wisdom's  various  arts  renown'd. 

When  T  asked  her  why  she  had  not  married  again,  her  answer 
was,  "  That  for  wedlock,  friendship  was  too  familiar,  and  love  too  pre- 
carious." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Mrs.  Abington.  This  actress  affords  an  extraordinary  instance 
of  the  effect  of  industry,  perseverance,  and  spirit.  Her  origin  was 
of  the  lowest  kind.  She  lived  with  her  father  in  Vinegar  Yard, 
Drury-lane.  Whether  he  was  ever  in  any  business,  or  how  he  sup- 
ported himself  with  his  daughter,  afterward  Mrs.  Abington,  till  she 
reached  the  age  of  about  twelve,  is  not  known,  but  at  that  period  she 
was  able  to  maintain  herself  and  him,  which  she  did  in  a  very  decent 
manner.  Her  maiden  name  was  Barton,  as  mentioned  in  many 
theatrical  annals. 

The  late  Arthur  Murphy,  whose  learning  and  talents,  particularly 
as  a  dramatic  writer,  have  raised  him  far  above  any  tribute  of  respect 
that  I  could  offer  to  his  memory,  told  me  that  he  had  seen  her  when 
she  was  about  the  age  above-mentioned,  and  that  she  then  supported 
herself  and  her  father  by  her  recitations  at  the  Bedford  and  Shak- 
speare  taverns,  under  the  piazzas  in  Covent  Garden.  Her  custom 
wras,  to  desire  the  waiter  to  inform  any  private  company  in  their  rooms 
that  she  would  deliver  passages  from  Shakspeare  and  other  writers 
for  a  small  reward.  When  the  company  consented,  she  stepped  upon 
the  table  and  delivered  the  several  compositions.  Every  thing  relative 
to  the  stage  was  interesting  to  Mr.  Murphy,  and  that  feeling  induced 
him  to  pay  particular  attention  to  this  theatrical  girl,  which  fixed  her 
person  on  his  memory.  As  she  increased  in  age  and  practice,  this 
itinerant  profession  became  less  attractive  as  a  novelty,  and  she  was 
then  driven  to  the  necessity  of  adopting  more  profligate  and  degrading 
means  of  support;  and  this  degrading  profession,  which  it  is  not 
necessary  to  designate  more  particularly,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  pur- 
suing for  some  years  before  she  happily  found  her  way  to  the  theatri- 
cal boards. 

The  manner  in  which  Mr.  Murphy  afterward  saw  her  in  her  de- 
graded state  was  as  follows :  A  party  of  his  friends,  consisting  of 


MRS.  ABINGTON. 


231 


four,  had  agreed  to  take  an  excursion  to  Richmond,  in  Surrey,  and  to 
pass  the  day  there.    The  gentlemen  were  to  meet  at  the  Turk's 
Head  Coffee-house,  opposite  Catharine-street  in  the  Strand.  Mr. 
Murphy  and  two  of  the  friends,  whose  names  I  have  forgotten,  were 
punctual  to  the  appointment,  but  they  waited  for  the  fourth  till  their 
patience  was  nearly  exhausted.    At  length  Mr.  Murphy  said  he  knew 
where  to  find  the  fourth  gentleman,  and  would  go  in  pursuit  of  him. 
He  immediately  proceeded  to  a  notorious  house  under  the  piazza  in 
Covent  Garden,  and  there  found  him.    This  person  was  a  Mr.  Tracy, 
a  gentleman  of  fortune,  well  known  at  that  time  under  the  name  of 
Beau  Tracy,  on  account  of  the  gayety  and  splendour  of  his  attire. 
Finding  that  Tracy  was  in  the  house,  Mr.  Murphy  proceeded  at  once 
to  his  bedroom,  where  he  found  the  beau  under  the  hands  of  his 
hairdresser,  and  not  half  attired.    Mr.  Murphy  waited  very  patiently 
till  the  grand  business  of  the  toilet  was  concluded.    While  he  waited, 
he  thought  he  saw  the  curtains  of  the  bed  move,  as  if  there  were  a 
person  within.    Mr.  Murphy  asked  the  beau  if  he  had  not  a  com- 
panion.   Tracy,  a  careless  rake,  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  told 
him  to  go  and  chat  with  her,  as  he  would  find  her  a  lively  wench. 
Murphy,  therefore,  drew  one  of  the  curtains  aside,  and  entered  into 
conversation  with  a  fair  votaress  of  Venus,  whom  he  immediately 
recognised  as  the  girl  who  had  entertained  him  and  his  friends  some 
years  before  at  the  taverns.    She  did  not  seem  abashed  at  being  seen 
by  a  stranger,  but  conversed  with  him  with  ease,  spirit,  and  humour. 

The  next  time  he  saw  her,  after  the  progress  of  years,  was  in  the 
station  of  the  first-rate  comic  actress  at  the  metropolitan  theatres,  as 
Mrs.  Abington.  Having  acquired  a  high  reputation  on  the  London 
boards,  she  was  offered  an  engagement  at  the  Cork  theatre,  which 
she  accepted,  and  was  accompanied  on  her  journey  by  Mr.  Needham, 
whom  I  have  mentioned  before.  She  had  not  then  been  so  long  rescued 
from  the  degraded  life  which  she  had  previously  led,  as  to  acquire 
that  sense  of  decorum  and  delicacy  which  was  necessary  to  procure 
her  a  reception  in  society  where  reputation  was  regarded  ;  and  there- 
fore she  had  no  scruple  to  appear  with  Mr.  Needham  upon  the  most 
intimate  and  familiar  footing. 

The  circumstance  of  her  connexion  with  Mr.  Needham,  as  well  as 
her  taste  for  dress,  were  so  well  known,  that  the  milliners  in  the  city 
of  Cork  put  the  following  label  in  their  shop  windows,  "  Abington 
caps  may  be  had  here  for  those  that  NeecVem."  How  long  Needham, 
a  gay  and  dissipated  man,  remained  with  her  at  Cork,  is  not  known, 
but  when  she  accepted  an  engagement  afterward  at  Dublin,  she 
thought  it  necessary  to  assume  a  more  precise  deportment,  and  even 
to  affect  in  public  an  extraordinary  degree  of  purity.  But  this  mask 
was  so  entirely  thrown  off  among  some  of  the  Irish  noblemen,  and 
other  characters  well  known  for  wealth  and  liberality,  that  as  most  of 
them  were  acquainted  with  each  other,  on  comparing  notes,  they 
found  that  each  had  been  induced  by  her  to  think  himself  the  only 
person  distinguished  by  her  partiality  ;  so  that  one  and  all  gave  her 
such  a  designation,  connected  with  her  baptismal  name  of  Fan,  as 


232 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


rendered  all  her  subsequent  pretensions  to  virtue  fruitless,  and  induced 
her  to  return  to  London,  where  she  was  more  cautious  in  her  con- 
cessions and  more  guarded  in  her  general  conduct. 

At  length,  such  was  Murphy's  high  opinion  of  her  comic  powers, 
that  he  not  only  assigned  to  her  the  chief  parts  in  his  comedies,  but 
dedicated  his  play  of  "  The  W ay  to  keep  Him"  to  her,  chiefly  on 
account  of  the  admirable  manner  in  which  she  had  performed  the 
character  of  the  Widow  Belmour.  From  motives  of  humanity  as 
well  as  delicacy,  I  should  forbear  to  mention  the  preceding  circum- 
stances of  her  life,  if  they  did  not  afford  a  striking  evidence  that 
people,  by  industry,  fortitude,  and  perseverance,  may  not  only  rise 
from  obscurity,  but  from  a  more  degrading  situation.  Low,  poor, 
and  vulgar  as  she  had  been  in  her  early  days,  she  was  always  anxious 
to  acquire  education  and  knowledge ;  and  though  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession might  be  thought  to  engross  all  her  time  and  attention,  she 
contrived  to  attain  the  French  language,  which  she  not  only  read,  but 
spoke  with  facility. 

Whatever  relations  she  might  have  had,  though  I  only  heard  of 
her  father,  have  doubtless  long  since  been  dead,  and  most  of  her 
private  friends  also ;  so  that  I  have  the  stronger  reason  to  hold  forth 
a  lesson  to  those  on  whose  birth  fortune  does  not  smile,  to  encourage 
them  to  exert  their  powers  in  order  to  improve  their  condition.  As 
a  proof  how  high  she  must  have  risen  on  the  stage,  and  in  public 
opinion,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  painted  a  whole-length  portrait  of  her ; 
and  another  in  kit-cat  size,  gratuitously,  as  a  tribute  to  her  professional 
excellence,  from  both  of  which  engravings  have  been  made  ;  and  she 
was  also  the  subject  of  many  other  prints. 

As  an  actress,  Mrs.  Abington  was  distinguished  for  spirit  and 
humour,  rather  than  for  high-breeding  and  elegance.  She  excelled 
in  the  delivery  of  sarcastic  humour,  to  which  the  shrewdness  of  her 
mind  and  the  tartness  of  her  tone  gave  the  most  effective  piquancy. 
Her  manners  were  not  sufficiently  graceful  and  well-bred  for  Con- 
greve's  "Millimont"  altogether,  but  in  those  passages  where  she 
taunts  Marwood,  there  was  a  stinging  severity  in  her  delivery  that 
would  have  fully  satisfied  the  author.  Beatrice  has  more  wit  and 
pertness  than  good-breeding,  and  in  that  part  she  was  excellent ;  and 
also  in  Estifania,  another  character  that  demands  vivacity  and  humour, 
not  elegance.  She  was  the  first  Lady  Teazle,  and  that  character 
was  admirably  suited  to  her  talents.  It  was  understood  that  she 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  French  authors,  and  could  converse  in 
Italian.  She  was  received  in  many  good  families  as  an  admired 
companion.  When  or  why  she  married,  I  know  not.  Her  husband, 
I  understood,  was  a  musician.  They  had  been  separated  many 
years,  and  it  was  reported  that  she  allowed  him  an  annuity  not  to 
molest  her. 

I  once  saw  Mr.  Abington  at  a  dinner  which  my  late  friend  Dr. 
Arnold  gave  at  Parsloe's,  in  St.  James's-street ;  but  as  the  company 
was  numerous,  I  could  not  get  near  enough  to  hear  what  he  said. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  smart-looking  little  man,  lively  in  his  conversation, 


MRS.  ABINGTON. 


233 


and  apparently  the  object  of  attention  to  those  who  were  near  him. 
There  was  a  report  of  his  death,  and  she  sent  her  and  my  old  friend, 
Mr.  Cooke,  the  barrister,  to  me,  to  ascertain  the  fact,  but  I  could  not 
give  him  any  information  on  the  subject;  it  is  probable  that  she 
survived  him. 

;  I  met  Mrs.  Abington  one  evening  at  Mrs.  Conway's  in  Stratford 
Place,  where  she  was  treated  with  much  respect  by  the  company ; 
but  she  chiefly  confined  her  conversation  to  General  Paoli,  who 
seemed  to  be  much  gratified  by  her  spirit  and  intelligence.  I  after- 
ward dined  in  company  with  her  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Jordan,  the 
celebrated  actress,  in  Cadogan  Place.  Mrs.  Abington  displayed 
great  spirit,  and  enlivened  the  company  with  many  interesting 
anecdotes  of  theatrical  history,  as  well  as  of  fashionable  life,  with 
which  she  had  been  intimately  connected  during  the  zenith  of  her 
fame  ;  but  the  chief  part  of  her  conversation  related  to  Mr.  Garrick, 
of  whom  she  seemed  never  likely  to  be  tired  of  talking.  She  spoke 
of  his  theatrical  merits  with  enthusiasm.  In  speaking  of  the  powerful 
effect  of  his  eyes,  she  said  that  whatever  expression  they  assumed, 
they  seemed  to  operate  by  fascination  ;  and  that  in  all  her  intercourse 
with  the  world  she  never  beheld  eyes  that  had  so  much  expression, 
brilliancy,  and  force.  She  finally  observed  that,  if  she  might  presume 
to  give  an  opinion,  she  would  say  Shakspeare  was  made  for  Garrick, 
and  Garrick  for  Shakspeare. 

Miss  Fitzclarence  was  of  this  party,  and  a  more  unaffected,  amiable, 
and  agreeable  young  lady  I  never  met.  She  was  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Cockle,  who  was  some  time  her  governess.  Mrs.  Cockle  has 
published  several  poems,  and  some  tracts  on  education,  which  are 
highly  creditable  to  her  talents  and  character. 

It  is  bare  justice  to  add,  that  our  lively  hostess,  Mrs.  Jordan,  never 
appeared  to  more  advantage  on  the  stage,  with  all  her  original  talents, 
than  when  she  did  the  honours  of  her  hospitable  board,  and  exerted 
herself  to  gratify  her  guests  with  her  sprightliness  and  good-humour. 
As  she  found  in  me  a  sincere  friend,  not  a  flatterer,  she  favoured  me 
with  her  confidence,  and  intrusted  me  with  the  letters  which  she  had 
received  from  a  high  character,  after  an  unexpected  separation, 
in  order  to  convince  me  that  nothing  in  her  own  conduct  had 
occasioned  that  separation. 

To  return  to  Mrs.  Abington.  As  she  had  no  powerful  comic  rival 
before  Miss  Farren,  the  late  Countess  of  Derby,  rose  into  popular 
favour,  she  might  have  acquired  a  considerable  fortune  ;  ] but  according 
to  report,  she  was  ambitious  of  associating  with  persons  of  quality, 
and  became  acquainted  with  some  old  ladies  of  fashion,  with  whom 
she  was  tempted  to  play  high  at  cards,  and  as  they  were  as  skilful  in 
acting  the  parts  of  gamesters,  as  she  was  in  any  of  the  characters 
which  she  personated  on  the  stage,  she  is  said  to  have  suffered 
severely  by  their  superior  dexterity.  I  remember  her  keeping  a  very 
elegant  carriage,  and  living  in  a  large  mansion  in  Clarges-street ; 
but  as  she  advanced  in  life,  she  became  less  fit  for  those  characters  in 


234 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


which  she  had  chiefly  distinguished  her  talents,  and,  of  course,  was 
less  likely  to  secure  an  engagement  with  the  theatrical  managers.* 

I  regret  to  say,  that  the  last  time  I  saw  her  on  the  stage,  1  thought 
I  perceived  a  great  falling  off  in  her  theatrical  powers,  and  a  poor 
substitution  of  a  kind  of  vulgar  humour  and  grimace  for  her  former 
vivacity  and  genius.  In  the  meridian  of  her  days  she  was  admired 
for  her  taste  in  dress,  but  I  learned  from  some  good  female  judges, 
that  she  declined  in  that  respect  also,  and  that  a  gaudy  parade  ap- 
peared instead  of  her  former  elegance  of  attire.  The  last  time  I 
saw  her,  after  she  left  the  stage,  was  at  the  house  of  her  old  friend 
Mr.  Nealson,  who  was  stock-broker  to  the  banking-house  of  Messrs. 
Coutts  and  Co.  and  also  to  that  of  Snow  and  Co.  near  Temple  Bar. 
Mr.  Nealson  was  alarmingly  ill,  and  attended  by  Dr.  Blaine.  I  had 
called  to  inquire  how  he  was,  for  he  was  too  ill  to  admit  visiters ;  and 
as  I  was  departing  I  met  Mrs.  Abington  in  the  passage,  who  came 
for  the  same  purpose.  She  seemed  to  be  under  the  influence  of 
extraordinary  prudery,  her  reign  of  gallantry  having  long  passed  by. 
and  declined  telling  her  name  to  the  servant,  but  desired  the  master 
might  be  merely  told  that  the  gentlewoman  had  called  to  inquire  after 
his  health.  As  I  knew  the  high  regard  that  Nealson  had  for  her,  I 
pressed  her  to  leave  her  name,  as  1  was  sure  that  such  an  attention 
on  her  part  would  sooth  his  sufferings,  and  perhaps  promote  his 
recovery.  She  was  inflexible,  and  watched  me  lest  I  should  disclose 
her  name.  I  hastily  returned  to  the  servant,  as  if  to  deliver  another 
message,  and  whispered  "  Mrs.  Abington."  "  I  know  it,  sir,"  said 
the  woman,  and  I  parted  with  Mrs.  Abington  at  the  door. 

It  would  hardly  have  been  in  the  power  of  anybody  who  had 
known  her  in  her  better  days,  to  recognise  her  person  at  that  time. 
.She  had  on  a  common  red  cloak,  and  her  general  attire  seemed  to 
indicate  the  wife  of  an  inferior  tradesman,  and  the  whole  of  her 
demeanour  was  such  as  might  be  expected  from  a  woman  of  that 
rank.  It  is  with  pleasure  I  add,  that  she  must  have  been  in  easy 
circumstances  on  her  retirement  from  the  stage,  as  she  lived  in  Pall 
Mall,  where  I  once  visited  her  previous  to  my  meeting  her  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Nealson,  who  soon  after  died,  leaving  her  and  my  old 
friend  Mr.  Cooke,  the  barrister,  100Z.  each,  and  50/.  to  each  of  the 
theatrical  funds. 

Indeed  it  was  well  known  that  she  had  an  income  from  a  deceased 
nobleman,  once  eminent  in  the  political  world,  which  terminated  at 

*  As  a  proof  that  she  began  to  feel  her  attraction,  if  not  her  faculties,  were 
declining,  she  was  induced  to  perform  the  part  of  Scrub,  on  one  of  her  benefit 
nights.  I  was  present,  and  remember  nothing  in  her  performance  that  might  not 
have  been  expected  from  an  actor  of  much  inferior  abilities.  As  a  proof  too  that 
like  many  of  her  profession,  she  thought  herself  capable  of  ciiaracters  not  within 
the  scope  of  her  powers,  I  once  saw  her  play  Ophelia  to  Mr.  Garrick's  Hamlet ;  and 
to  use  a  simile  of  my  old  friend  Dr.  Monsey,  she  appeared  « like  a  mackerel  on  a 
gravel-walk."  My  late  friend  Mr.  Sayers  published  a  whole-length  etching  of  her 
in  Scrub,  which  was  very  like  her.  He  also  published  one  of  Miss  Farren,  in  the 
heroine  of  Mr.  Pratt's  tragedy,  41  The  Fair  Circassian,"  considering  her  as  unfit  for 
tragic  characters,  however  excellent  in  comic  parts  or  those  of  domestic  tenderness. 


MISS  FARREN — MR.  I10LMAN. 


235 


his  death.  His  immediate  successor  annulled  it,  but  as  he  died  soon 
after,  the  next  successor  generously  restored  it,  from  a  regard  to  the 
memory  of  his  father.  I  never  heard  that  the  theatrical  fraternity 
attended  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Abington,  as  is  usual  on  the  death  of 
even  the  lower  order  of  their  community,  male  and  female ;  neither 
do  I  know  when  she  died,  or  where  she  was  buried. 

Miss  Farren.  With  this  actress  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
personally  acquainted,  but  I  met  her  one  morning  with  Lord  Derby 
at  the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  Kemble.  She  seemed  to  be  lively  and 
intelligent,  with  less  affectation  than  might  reasonably  be  expected  in 
a  fine  lady  who  had  a  prospect  of  elevated  rank.  According  to 
report,  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  military  officer,  who  died  when 
she  was  young,  and  left  his  widow  in  distress.  Miss  Farren  was  first 
known  as  connected  with  a  theatre  at  Birmingham,  where  Mr. 
Younger,  a  respectable  actor,  was  the  manager.  She  was  then  very 
young,  and  only  employed  in  the  most  trifling  parts  ;  and  I  heard 
from  a  lady  who  was  engaged  in  the  same  company,  that  Miss  Farren 
had  so  small  a  salary,  that  she  had  a  weekly  stipend  from  four  of  the 
female  performers  for  carrying  to  the  theatre  what  is  styled  their 
properties,  which  means  articles  of  dress,  ornaments,  &c.  &c.  She 
conducted  herself  with  great  propriety,  and  gradually  improved  in 
the  opinion  of  the  manager,  who  at  length  procured  her  an  engage- 
ment at  the  Haymarket  theatre,  under  the  management  of  the  elder 
Mr.  Col  man. 

It  would  be  unbecoming  in  me  to  enter  into  a  criticism  on  her 
talents,  as  they  are  so  well  known,  and  were  so  justly  admired  by  the 
public.  She  was  lively  and  elegant,  and  only  wanted  the  satirical 
point  and  spirit  of  Mrs.  Abington,  which,  after  all,  is  perhaps  a  vulgar 
quality ;  but  she  had  what  Mrs.  Abington  never  possessed,  and  that 
was  pathos.  The  character  which  she  performed  in  "  The  Chapter 
of  Accidents''  may  be  cited,  as  well  as  many  others,  to  show  that  in 
parts  of  genuine  sensibility  she  could  make  a  powerful  appeal  to  the 
sympathy  of  the  audience.  At  length,  like  Miss  Fenton,  the  first 
Polly  in  "  The  Beggar's  Opera,"  she  was  destined  to  assume  a  high 
rank,  which  by  all  accounts  she  supported  as  if  she  had  been  "  to  the 
manner  born,"  and  was  esteemed  as  one  of  the  chief  ornaments  in 
the  circle  of  nobility. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Mr.  Holman.  This  gentleman  was  an  intimate  friend  of  mine, 
till  I  happened  to  disapprove  of  the  leading  part  which  he  took  in 
opposition  to  the  manager  and  chief  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre.  Eight  of  the  chief  performers  entered  into  a  compact, 
and  were  styled  "  The  Glorious  Eight"  by  those  actors  who  approved 


236 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


of  the  combination.  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Holman  on  the  subject,  remind- 
ing him  that,  in  a  former  difference  with  the  same  proprietor,  on  his 
restoration  to  the  theatre,  he  had  emphatically  assured  me  that  he 
never  would  quarrel  with  a  London  manager  again.  He  sent  me  a 
very  friendly  answer,  promising  to  call  on  me,  and  to  justify  his  con- 
duct on  the  occasion  in  question  to  my  satisfaction.  I  waiteci  with 
some  concern  for  his  visit,  but  he  did  not  call ;  and  while  I  was  talk- 
ing in  the  street  one  morning  with  Mr.  Charles  Kemble,  he  passed  us, 
saluted  Mr.  Kemble,  and  took  no  notice  of  me. 

As  all  the  other  performers  concerned  in  the  combination,  in  turn, 
to  use  a  modern  phrase,  "cut  me"  in  the  same  manner,  I  began  to  be 
irritated,  particularly  as  Mr.  Harris,  the  manager,  had  at  first  re- 
quested that  I  would  take  up  his  cause,  and  signified  that  I  should  be 
well  rewarded  for  my  trouble.  1  positively  refused  to  have  any" 
concern  in  the  affair,  alleging  that,  though  I  disapproved  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  parties,  yet  as  I  was  personally  acquainted  with  them  all 
and  was  intimate  with  some  of  them,  I  was  resolved  not  to  take  any 
part  against  them.  But  rendered  indignant  by  the  slights  which  I 
received  from  them,  I  wrote  a  series  of  letters  in  a  morning  paper  of 
which  I  was  then  proprietor,  under  the  signature  of  "  An  Old  Ob- 
server," in  which  I  condemned  their  proceedings,  and  to  the  best  of 
my  abilities  used  the  weapon  of  ridicule,  as  well  as  of  argument, 
against  them. 

The  result  of  their  appeal  to  the  lord  chamberlain  was  adverse 
to  their  cause  ;  they  therefore  found  it  necessary  to  make  their  peace 
with  the  manager,  and  in  due  time  with  me  also — for  they  all  made 
advances  to  me,  either  personally  or  by  deputy.  Munden  and  Incle- 
don  swore  that  they  would  not  be  at  variance  with  "  Jack  Taylor," 
and  made  friendly  overtures  to  me  as  soon  as  we  met ;  and  the  rest* 
in  general,  followed  their  example.  The  late  Mr.  John  Kemble. 
whose  mind  was  liberal,  invited  me  to  dine  with  him,  and  placed  me 
and  Mr.  Fawcett  on  each  side  of  him,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  for 
the  purpose  of  restoring  harmony  between  us.  Mr.  Fawcett  asked 
me  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him,  to  which  I  readily  assented ; 
and  an  amicable  feeling  on  both  sides  was  immediately  renewed,  and 
we  have  since  enjoyed  many  a  hearty  laugh  together. 

One  night,  the  late  Mr.  Lewis,  as  I  was  behind  the  scenes  of  Cov- 
ent  Garden  theatre,  asked  me  if  I  had  any  objection  to  shake  hands 
with  Mr.  Knight,  who  had  desired  him  to  make  the  proposal.  I,  of 
course,  readily  complied,  and  we  were  immediately  reconciled  on  the 
spot.  Another  evening,  when  I  was  in  the  lobby  of  the  theatre,  Mr. 
Morton,  the  successful  dramatic  author,  and  a  most  friendly  man, 
addressed  me  in  a  similar  manner,  telling  me  that  Mr.  Holman  was 
in  the  next  box,  and  was  anxious  to  be  on  good  terms  with  me  ;  and 
in  consequence  of  my  answer  Mr.  Holman  came  forward,  and  cor- 
diality was  completely  restored  between  us.  I  subsequently  wrote 
prologues  and  epilogues  for  his  dramatic  pieces,  and  no  trace  of 
variance  existed  on  the  part  of  either. 

To  none  of  the  members  of  this  opposition  to  the  manager  did  I 


"the  glorious  eight. " 


237 


ever  make  the  least  advance  towards  reconciliation,  except  to  the 
late  Mr.  Johnstone,  generally  called  Jack  Johnstone,  the  admirable 
singer  and  performer  of  Irish  characters  ;  and  that  overture,  on  my 
part,  arose  from  an  accidental  meeting.  I  had  waited  on  the  Hon. 
William  Wellesley  Pole,  now  Lord  Maryborough,  with  whom  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted,  and  was  expecting  him  in  a  private 
apartment  at  the  Admiralty,  when  that  nobleman  was  the  secretary, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Mr.  Johnstone  was  introduced  into  the  same 
room.  We  walked  about  the  apartment,  and  took  no  notice  of  each 
other,  though  we  had  once  been  upon  very  friendly  terms.  At  length, 
wishing  for  the  restoration  of  amity,  I  said :  "  Mr.  Johnstone,  as 
some  years  have  passed  since  there  was  any  ground  for  a  difference 
between  us,  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  not  shake  hands."  He  im- 
mediately advanced,  shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  said  :  "  It  is  very  odd 
that  a  mutual  friend  of  ours  this  day  said  to  me — ' 1  must  bring  about 
a  reconciliation  between  you  and  Jack  Taylor ;'  and  I  am  glad  that 
there  is  no  reason  to  wait  for  his  intervention."  Johnstone  then  de- 
sired me  to  accompany  him  to  Covent  Garden,  took  me  into  the 
Piazza  Coffee-house,  where  a  subscription  was  opened  to  relieve  the 
sufferers  by  the  destruction  of  Covent  Garden  theatre  by  fire,  and 
requested  that  I  would  subscribe  a  guinea,  to  which  I  most  willingly 
assented.  I  have  since  often  met  Johnstone  at  the  hospitable  table 
of  my  old  friend  Mr.  Const,  the  chairman  of  the  Middlesex  sessions, 
where  Johnstone's  humour,  high  spirits,  and  musical  talents,  rendered 
him  at  all  times  the  life  of  the  company. 

Johnstone  particularly  excelled  in  singing  Irish  songs,  and  several, 
I  believe,  w7ere  written  for  him  by  my  friend  George  Colman  the 
younger.  Whenever  Johnstone  was  asked  to  sing  in  company,  he 
at  once  complied,  and  there  was  a  naivete  in  his  manner  that  gave 
effect  to  every  point.  He  was  the  only  actor  within  my  memory 
who  was  equally  effective  and  successful  in  representing  the  lower 
orders  of  Irishmen  and  Irish  gentleman :  the  former  he  portrayed 
with  humorous  fidelity,  and  in  the  latter  he  was  eminently  successful. 

Moody  had  great  merit  in  performing  low  Irish  characters  ;  but  he 
was  always  heavy  and  sluggish  in  representing  those  of  a  higher 
order.  Johnstone  was  also  equally  successful  in  representing  those 
parts  that  occupied  a  middle  rank,  and  were  neither  low  nor  high — 
such  as  Foigard,  and  Kendrick  in  "  The  Heir  at  Law :"  in  the  last 
part  he  displayed  a  touching  and  unaffected  sensibility.  There  was 
a  shrewdness  in  his  conversation  which  indicated  strongly  his  know- 
ledge of  mankind ;  and  an  archness  and  waggery  in  his  manner 
which  evidently  resulted  from  that  knowledge.  He  was  capable  of 
a  sincere  and  lasting  friendship. 

His  accuracy  in  representing  the  higher  order  of  Irish  was  the 
effect  of  his  intercourse  with  persons  of  high  rank  in  this  country  and 
in  Ireland.  He  had  been  frequently  honoured  with  the  countenance 
of  his  late  majesty,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  and  invited  to  the  royal 
parties  :  a  proof  that  he  must  have  been  a  well-bred  man,  or  he  never 
could  have  been  in  the  company  of  a  prince  distinguished  by  a  union 

L  3 


238 


RECORDS  OI"  MY  LIPK. 


of  ease,  affability,  and  dignity,  of  which  there  are  perhaps  few  paral- 
lels in  the  civilized  world.  Mr.  Johnstone  was  very  prudent  in 
pecuniary  concerns,  from  a  knowledge  of  the  uncertainty  of  human 
affairs  and  the  instability  of  fortune,  and  was  reputed  to  be  very 
wealthy ;  but  the  property  which  he  left  was  much  inferior  to  what 
rumour  had  ascribed  to  him,  and  evidently  proved  that  he  was  not  of 
so  saving  a  disposition  as  had  been  generally  supposed. 

He  left,  as  I  was  told  by  one  of  his  confidential  friends,  about 
18,000/. ;  a  vast  property,  when  we  consider  that  hs  kept  a  good- 
sized  house  in  a  conspicuous  situation,  two  maid-servants  and  gen- 
erally a  male  attendant,  and  that  he  often  entertained  his  friends. 
His  companionable  qualities,  as  well  as  his  musical  talents,  rendered 
him  an  attractive  object,  and  though  there  was  a  familiar  spirit  in  his 
manner,  he  was  always  well  bred.  His  last  illness,  I  understood,  was 
not  very  painful ;  and  his  amiable  daughter,  Mrs.  Wallack,  informed 
me,  that  as  she  sat  on  his  bed,  holding  his  hand,  his  death  was  so  easy 
that  he  expired  without  her  being  sensible  of  it.  His  health  was  in 
general  good.  He  was  twice  severely  afflicted  by  a  disorder  in  his 
eyes,  from  which  my  departed  brother  and  myself  had  the  pleasure 
of  entirely  relieving  him. 

Mr.  Quick.  This  gentleman  is  one  of  my  early  theatrical  ac- 
quaintances, and,  I  may  add,  of  my  oldest  friends.  He  is  still  alive, 
but  in  a  very  advanced  age.  He  lives  at  Islington,  and  is  a  constant, 
yet  a  sober  visiter  of  a  neighbouring  tavern,  where  his  good  sense 
and  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  his  lively  disposition,  excite  the 
attention  and  esteem  of  his  company.  By  genuine  comic  talents, 
and  a  strong  sense  of  humour,  he  was  able  to  triumph  over  a  very 
peculiar  voice,  which  few  who  might  be  in  the  same  situation  would 
have  been  so  resolute  as  to  deem  fit  for  the  stage  ;  but  his  intel- 
lectual powers,  and  his  attentive  observation  of  mankind  in  all  states 
and  conditions,  and  his  general  excellence  in  discriminating  and  sup- 
porting characters  brought  him  into  great  popularity,  and  he  became 
one  of  the  chief  comic  performers  in  the  opinion  of  our  late  excellent 
monarch  George  the  Third. 

Mr.  Quick  was  not  only  admirable  in  rustic  characters,  but  in  those 
of  a  higher  order,  where  pride  and  arrogance  were  to  be  represented. 
He  was  also  an  exact  observer,  and  most  effective  representative  of 
the  middle  classes  of  life.  He  always  superadded  an  arch  and  sly 
humour,  such  as  a  dramatic  author  cannot  give  to  his  original  design, 
but  must  leave  to  the  critical  conception,  and  if  I  may  be  permitted 
to  use  such  a  word,  the  elongating  humour  of  the  actor.  Mr.  Quick 
announced  his  intention  of  performing  the  part  of  Richard  the  Third 
for  one  of  his  annual  benefits,  and,  meeting  him  before  the  benefit 
took  place,  I  observed  that  I  supposed  he  intended  to  burlesque  the 
character,  as  his  predecessor  Shuter  had  done  on  a  similar  occasion. 
I  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  perfectly  serious,  and  I  attended 
the  performance.  He  supported  the  part  with  good  sense  and  judg- 
ment throughout,  but  the  peculiarity  of  his  voice  occasionally  broke 
forth  with  such  comic  effect,  that  the  audience,  with  all  their  respect 


MR.  QUICK — MR.  TERRY. 


239 


for  his  talents  and  character,  could  not  help  giving  way  to  ludicrous 
emotions. 

Mr.  Quick  was  of  too  liberal  a  disposition  to  feel  the  least  envy 
towards  any  of  his  contemporaries,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was  most 
ready  to  acknowledge  their  merits.  I  remember  once  asking  him 
what  he  thought  of  Shuter,  who  was  dead,  and  of  whom  I  had  seen 
but  little,  admired  as  he  was,  and  by  all  accounts  justly  deemed  one 
of  the  best  comic  actors  that  ever  existed.  Mr.  Quick  was  lavish  in 
his  praise,  and  concluded  with  saying  that  "  he  was  all  honey,"  by 
which  expression  I  inferred  that  all  was  smooth,  sweet,  and  delicious 
in  his  acting.  Mr.  Quick  has  a  son,  an  attorney  by  profession,  and  a 
daughter,  married  to  Mr.  Davenport,  a  translator  and  teacher  of  lan- 
guages, a  very  respectable  man,  who  has  published  some  learned  and 
valuable  works. 

As  long  as  Mr.  Quick's  strength  would  enable  him,  he  every  day 
visited  his  daughter,  walking  from  Islington  to  Doctor's  Commons. 
He  voluntarily  resigned  a  good  situation  and  salary  at  Covent  Gar- 
den theatre,  because  he  would  not  be  called  upon  to  act  more  than 
three  times  a  week ;  and  as  it  was  impossible  that  any  dramatic 
writer  would  think  of  bringing  forward  a  comedy  at  Covent  Garden 
theatre  without  providing  a  part  for  Mr.  Quick,  the  late  Mr.  Harris, 
then  chief  proprietor  and  manager,  properly  alleged  that  if  a  new 
comedy  was  successful,  and  likely  to  have  a  run,  such  a  condition  as 
that  of  only  performing  three  nights  a  week  must  interrupt  its  course, 
and  be  injurious  to  the  theatre  as  well  as  to  the  author.  Mr.  Quick, 
however,  considering  his  age,  and  having  obtained  a  comfortable  in- 
dependence, was  inexorable,  and  relinquished  the  connexion. 

After  his  retirement,  he  told  me  that  as  he  had  never  formally 
taken  leave  of  the  stage,  he  had  some  notion  of  taking  a  farewell 
benefit,  as  many  actors  and  actresses  had  done  ;  but  not  having  done 
so,  I  conclude  fhat,  being  easy  at  home,  he  would  not  subject  himself 
to  the  suspicion  of  acting  the  part  of  Lovegold  in  reality,  which  he 
had  so  admirably  performed  when  he  was  on  the  stage. — Mr.  Quick 
was  always  esteemed  for  his  conduct  and  character  in  private  life, 
and  was  the  life  of  the  green-room  for  his  good-humour  and  unoffend- 
ing waggery. 

Mr.  Terry.  This  gentleman  was  originally  intended  for  the 
profession  of  an  architect,  and- 1  have  been  assured  that  his  archi- 
tectural drawings  were  scientific  and  elegant  in  a  high  degree. 
When  he  determined  on  a  theatrical  life,  he  gave  all  these  drawings 
to  his  friends.  When  we  became  acquainted,  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
one  left.  He  told  me  that  they  were  all  gone,  but  were  of  so  trifling 
a  kind  that  they  would  not  be  worth  my  acceptance.  None  of  his 
friends,  however,  thought  so,  and  held  these  proofs  of  his  taste  and 
genius  in  great  value.  He  was  a  very  intelligent  man  and  an  excel- 
lent actor.  His  voice  was  harsh  and  monotonous,  but  his  concep- 
tions were  so  just,  and  his  acting  so  determined  and  appropriate,  that 
he  was  deservedly  a  favourite  with  the  public.  He  appeared  to 
most  advantage  in  characters  of  a  sarcastic  turn,  and  there  was  some- 


240 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


thing  of  the  same  tendency  in  his  conversation.  He  was  very  con- 
versant with  the  old  dramatic  writers  of  this  country,  insomuch  that 
my  late  friend  William  Gifford,  having  heard  of  his  knowledge  in  this 
respect,  desired  I  would  submit  to  his  judgment  a  passage  which  he 
found  difficult,  when  he  had  nearly  concluded  his  new  edition  of  Ben 
Jonson's  works.  The  passage  was  equally  difficult  to  Mr.  Terry,, 
and  therefore,  it  is  probable,  has  been  covered  by  the  mist  of  time. 

Mr.  Terry,  as  might  naturally  be  concluded,  was  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Shakspeare,  of  whose  monument  in  the  church  of  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon he  had  a  large  copy,  and  which  was  so  placed  in  his 
house  as  to  be  out  of  danger  from  accident  or  careless  servants. 
This  effigy  of  the  great  bard  was,  I  understand,  the  object  of  his 
daily  contemplation. 

Mr.  Terry  first  appeared  in  London  upon  the  Haymarket  stage, 
but  his  merit  soon  transferred  him  to  Covent  Garden  and  Drury-lane 
theatres,  where  his  reputation  considerably  increased  on  account  of 
the  variety  of  characters  which  he  represented,  in  all  of  which  he 
displayed  great  merit.  He  married  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Nasmyth,  an 
artist  of  distinction  in  Edinburgh.  Mrs.  Terry  is  a  lady  of  admired 
talents  in  the  same  province  of  art. 

Mr.  Terry  was  a  very  judicious  critic,  theatrical  and  otherwise. 
As  he  was  for  many  years  in  particular  intimacy  with  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  it  may  be  easily  conceived  that  he  was  respected  for  know- 
ledge and  talents.  It  is  deeply  to  be  lamented  that  he  should,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  and  in  the  height  of  popularity,  have  been  obliged  to 
retire  on  accouut  of  pecuniary  difficulties,  the  result,  according  to 
report,  of  an  unfortunate  attachment  to  the  gaming-table  ;  for  with 
an  amiable,  a  prudent,  and  affectionate  wife,  it  is  impossible  to  sup- 
pose that  his  embarrassments  could  be  the  consequence  of  any 
domestic  extravagance.  His  death  was  really  a  loss  to  the  public, 
as  well  as  to  his  friends,  as  he  has  not  left  any  adequate  successor  in 
the  characters  in  which  he  was  chiefly  successful. 

Mr.  Terry  displayed  dramatic  as  well  as  theatrical  talents,  for  it  is 
generally  understood  that  he  introduced  some  of  the  popular  novels 
of  his  friend  Sir  Walter  Scott  upon  the  stage.  I  have  two  letters 
from  Mr.  Terry  addressed  to  me,  which  I  may,  perhaps,  annex  to  this 
work  ;  though,  as  they  are  rather  of  a  flattering  description,  I  may 
probably  bring  my  modesty  into  question  ;  but,  as  my  merits  are  but 
humble,  it  would  be  absurd  indeed  to  hide  my  little  light  under  a 
bushel. 

Mr.  Emery.  No  one,  within  my  remembrance,  was  so  natural  in 
the  representation  of  rustic  characters.  There  was  a  simplicity  in 
his  manner  that  had  all  the  effect  of  reality.  In  all  boorish  parts  he 
seemed  as  if  he  had  just  come  upon  the  stage  immediately  from  the 
plough,  or  the  side  of  a  wagon.  But  his  rustic  range  was  wider,  for 
he  could  perform  clowns  of  the  arch  and  roguish  kind  with  equal 
correctness,  and  also  parts  of  determined  villany,  in  which  there 
were  traits  of  remorse.  A  part  of  this  description,  in  one  of  my 
friend  Morton's  comedies,  was  written  on  purpose  for  him,  and  was 


MR.  EMERY  MR.  BENSLEY. 


241 


rendered  by  him  one  of  the  main  props  of  the  piece.  He  possessed 
musical  knowledge  in  no  slight  degree,  and  performed  on  the  violon- 
cello with  taste  and  skill ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  to  be  regretted,  that  he 
had  not  a  voice  which  properly  qualified  him  to  take  conspicuous 
parts  in  operas  as  well  as  plays.  He  was  also  a  respectable  artist,  and 
1  have  a  landscape  in  water-colours  of  his  drawing,  which  displays 
the  correctness  and  spirit  of  a  regular  professor.  He  was  a 
modest  man,  and  did  not  conceive  himself  qualified  to  assume  any  of 
Shakspeare's  characters,  insomuch  that  he  wanted  to  relinquish  the 
part  of  Caliban,  though  he  had  performed  it  with  success. 

Emery  was  of  so  convivial  a  turn,  and  his  company  so  much 
courted,  that  on  his  death  he  left  his  family  in  adverse  circumstances. 
Mr.  George  Robins  of  Covent  Garden,  a  gentleman  well  known  for 
humanity,  as  well  as  for  his  partiality  for  the  drama  and  zeal  and 
rectitude  in  his  profession,  immediately  instituted  a  subscription  for 
the  support  of  the  widow  and  children,  and  by  his  activity  and  per- 
severance was  able  to  procure  for  them  a  comfortable  provision. 
As  I  have  referred  to  a  character  in  "  The  Tempest,"  I  cannot  avoid 
adverting  to  the  ignorant  hostility  of  some  part  of  the  audience 
against  Mr.  Kemble  for  using  aches  as  a  dissyllable  when  he  per- 
formed the  part  of  Prospero  ;  as  he  was  not  only  authorized  by  the 
passage  in  the  play,  which  rendered  it  absolutely  necessary,  but  by 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Prior,  and  even  by  so  late  a  writer  as 
Swift. 

During  this  foolish  hostility  I  met  Mr.  Bensley,  who  used  to  per- 
form the  part.  We  talked  on  the  subject,  as  it  was  then  rife  in  the 
newspapers.  iC  Mr.  Kemble,"  said  he,  "  was  right :  I  used  the  word  as 
he  did  when  I  first  performed  the  part ;  but  he  was  wrong  in  perse- 
vering to  put  the  audience  out  of  humour  by  his  critical  precision. 
I  was  hissed  for  pronouncing  the  word  as  he  did ;  but,  not  disposed 
to  sacrifice  to  the  prejudice  of  ignorance,  on  the  following  night  I 
omitted  the  line  altogether."  Having  thus  incidentally  mentioned 
Mr.  Bensley,  my  respect  for  his  memory  as  an  actor  and  a  gentle- 
man induces  me  not  to  pass  him  over  without  a  farther  notice.  He 
was  an  officer  in  the  marines  before  he  ventured  on  the  theatrical 
boards  ;  and  was  present,  and  not  undistinguished,  at  the  taking  of  the 
Havannah.  He  was  a  man  of  good  sense,  and  had  the  advantage  of 
a  liberal  education.  As  a  proof  that  his  intellectual  powers  were  not 
of  an  ordinary  description,  he  was  intimate  with  Churchill,  Lloyd,  the 
elder  Colman,  and  Bonnell  Thornton.  His  voice  was  rough,  and 
had  no  variety,  or  rather  flexibility ;  but  he  was  a  very  judicious 
actor,  and  in  grave  and  moral  characters  very  impressive.  There 
was  a  dry  sarcastic  humour  in  his  conversation  which  peculiarly  fitted 
him  for  such  characters  as  Scandal,  in  the  comedy  of  "  Love  for 
Love,"  which  he  performed  admirably.  He  was  for  many  years 
deemed  the  best  Pierre  in  "  Venice  Preserved,"  and  was  much 
respected  for  his  performance  of  Iago,  and  of  Evander  in  "  The 
Grecian  Daughter,"  after  the  death  of  Barry.  At  length  being  tired 
of  a  theatrical  life,  his  friend  Mr.  Windham  procured  him  the  appoint- 


242 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


ment  of  barrack-master ;  and  soon  after  a  near  relation  of  the  same 
name,  who  was  a  director  of  the  East  India  Company,  died  and  left 
him  a  very  considerable  fortune,  amounting,  according  to  report,  to 
about  60,000/.  He  then  retired  to  Stanmore,  and  lived  happily  with 
a  very  amiable  wife,  to  whom  he  had  been  married  many  years. 

Within  a  year  or  two  of  his  death,  I  understood  his  mental  powers 
deserted  him,  and  rendered  him  totally  unfit  for  society,  but  he  en- 
joyed every  comfort  that  conjugal  affection  could  impart.  He  was 
very  intimate  with  the  late  Lord  Torrington  and  his  family,  whom  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  at  his  house  while  he  continued  to  reside 
in  London.  He  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  theatrical  community  in 
general ;  and,  if  not  familiar,  was  at  least  courteous  to  all  of  them, 
however  humble  in  their  station.  It  seems  strange  that  his  wealthy 
relation  did  not  enable  him  to  quit  the  stage  when  he  was  tired  of  it, 
but  still  suffered  him  to  continue  on  it  till  Mr.  Windham  appointed 
him  a  barrack-master.  He  must  have  known  that,  though  his  salary 
enabled  him  to  live  like  a  gentleman,  he  could  not  do  so  without 
strict,  if  not  severe  prudence.  This  relation,  indeed,  bequeathed  to 
him  a  large  fortune,  but  what  gratitude  can  be  due  to  a  man  who 
gives  what  is  no  longer  his  own,  and  who  loses  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  effects  of  his  friendship  or  benevolence,  and  of  witnessing  the 
happiness  which  he  is  able  to  confer  on  worthy  objects,  for  the 
despicable  enjoyment  of  undiminished  affluence  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Lewis,  a  provincial  actor.  This  actor  I  knew  in  my  early  days. 
He  was  no  relation  to  the  admirable  comic  actor  who  was  so  long 
one  of  the  main  props  of  Covent  Garden  theatre.  The  person 
whom  I  now  mention  was  a  provincial  performer  well  known,  but 
particularly  at  Liverpool,  when  the  theatre  was  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Mr.  Younger,  who  had  been  engaged  for  a  few  seasons  at 
Covent  Garden  theatre.  Lewis  was  an  old  man  when  I  knew  him. 
He  had  a  turn  for  poetry,  and  published  a  few  of  his  effusions  with 
the  following  poetical  motto : — 

The  Muses  forced  me  to  besiege  'era, 
Neccssitas  non  habet  legem. 

He  was  generally  known  by  the  title  of  "  The  King  of  Grief,"  as 
he  had  watery  eyes,  which  made  him  always  appear  to  be  weeping, 
and  as  he  was  continually  predicting  misery  to  himself.  As  he  was 
a  harmless  man,  and  possessed  of  literary  talents,  he  was  treated 
kindly  by  his  professional  brethren,  and  had  some  share  in  an  annual 
benefit. 


LEWIS  DAGGER  MARK 


243 


On  one  occasion,  when  the  benefit  had  been  very  productive  to 
him,  he  was  congratulated  on  his  success.  Instead  of  evincing  his 
own  satisfaction,  he  began  crying,  and  said,  "  Ah !  I  shall  not  be  so 
lucky  next  year."  Mr.  Younger,  who  was  a  very  friendly  man,  in- 
vited old  Lewis  to  dine  with  him  at  Liverpool.  Lewis  declined  the 
invitation,  alleging  the  indifferent  state  of  his  attire.  Mr.  Younger 
desired  him  to  go  into  the  wardrobe  of  the  theatre,  and  gave  orders 
that  he  should  receive  any  suit  of  clothes  that  fitted  him.  As  soon 
as  he  was  properly  accommodated,  he  rejoined  Mr.  Younger  at  din- 
ner. After  a  few  glasses  of  wine,  which  instead  of  raising  his  spirits 
depressed  him,  he  began  weeping.  Mr.  Younger,  with  great  kind- 
ness, asked  him  the  cause  of  his  sudden  grief ;  "  Why,"  said  he,  u  is 
it  not  lamentable  to  think  that  such  a  man  of  genius  as  myself  should 
be  obliged  to  such  a  stupid  fellow  as  you  are  for  a  suit  of  clothes  and 
a  dinner  V  Far  from  being  offended,  Mr.  Younger  only  laughed 
at  his  ludicrous  and  untimely  ingratitude. 

Dagger  Marr.  This  actor  was  on  the  stage  in  the  earlier  days 
of  Garrick.  I  saw  him  at  my  father's  when  I  was  very  young.  He 
had  then  retired  from  the  stage,  but  being  an  intelligent  man  he  lived 
in  respectable  society.  Whether  he  was  honoured  with  the  epithet 
of  "  Dagger"  on  account  of  his  being  generally  employed  in  repre- 
senting murderers,  or  whether  it  was  really  his  Christian  name,  I  never 
heard  ;  and  it  is  hardly  likely  that  any  of  the  theatrical  tribe  are  now 
old  enough  to  remember.* 

It  appears  that  he  had  full  confidence  in  his  own  theatrical  merit ; 
for  one  night  when  Garrick  was  performing  Ranger,  and  was  run- 
ning off  the  stage  with  Jacintha,  he  stumbled  against  Marr,  who  stood 
too  near  and  was  pushed  aside.  Looking  after  Garrick,  and  thinking 
he  was  out  of  hearing,  Marr  folded  his  arms  and  was  heard  to  say  to 
himself,  "  Ranger  ! — give  me  but  your  eyes  and  I  will  play  Ranger 
with  you  for  any  sum."  Garrick's  eyes,  indeed,  were  generally 
allowed  to  be  most  brilliant  and  piercing. 

Marr  had  a  turkey  presented  'to  him,  and  meeting  a  friend  as  he 
was  carrying  it  through  the  streets,  lie  was  asked  what  he  was  going 
to  do  with  it.  He  said  he  was  going  to  present  it  to  Mr.  Garrick. 
His  friend  told  him  that  Mr.  Garrick  would  not  accept  it.  Marr, 
however,  determined  to  persevere.  Mr.  Garrick  declined  the  offer, 
observing  that  he  had  plenty  of  turkeys  at  Hampton,  and  desiring 
him  to  keep  it  for  his  own  family.  Marr  however  was  so  pressing 
that,  rather  than  mortify  him,  Mr.  Garrick  agreed  to  accept  it.  On 

*  My  friend  Mr.  Const  related  to  me  a  circumstance  which  perhaps  may  be  con- 
sidered conclusive  that  "  Dagger"  was  a  name  given  to  him  in  ridicule.  It  is  well 
known  that  Garrick  used  to  practise  his  gestures  before  a  glass,  particularly  when 
he  had  to  utter  a  soliloquy.  One  day  when  Marr  was  waiting  for  Garrick  in  his 
dressing-room,  he  went  before  the  glass  and  repeated  the  following  passage  in  the 
tragedy  of  Macbeth  : — "  Is  this  a  dagger  that  I  see  before  me  ?"  throwing  himself 
into  a  tragic  attitude,  and  was  so  well  pleased  with  his  own  performance  that  he  ox- 
claimed,  "  Well  done — better  than  Garrick  !"  Garrick  had,  unperceived,  entered 
the  room,  and  walking  softly  up  to  Marr,  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said, 
•  Well  done,  Dagger." 


244 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


his  return  Marr  met  the  same  friend,  who  asked  him  if  Mr.  Garrick 
had  taken  the  turkey.  "  Taken  it  V  said  Marr,  "  ay,  he  would  have 
taken  it  if  it  had  been  a  roll  and  treacle." 

The  odd  misanthropic  humour  of  Marr,  as  his  conduct  was  in  gene- 
ral correct,  never  offended  his  brethren  of  the  stage,  and  was  entirely 
thrown  aside  when  he  quitted  it.  My  father  described  him  as  a  well- 
informed  man  of  gentlemanly  manners. 

It  is  well  "known  that  Garrick  was  fond  of  playing  sportive  tricks 
upon  his  friends,  and  this  disposition  is  alluded  to  by  Goldsmith  in 
his  "  Retaliation."  One  afternoon,  when  he  expected  Dr.  Monsey 
to  call  on  him,  he  desired  the  servant  to  conduct  the  doctor  into  his 
bedroom.  Garrick  was  announced  for  King  Lear  on  that  night,  and 
when  Monsey  saw  him  in  bed  he  expressed  his  surprise,  and  asked 
him  if  the  play  was  to  be  changed.  Garrick  was  dressed,  but  had 
his  night-cap  on,  and  the  quilt  was  drawn  over  him,  to  give  him  the 
appearance  of  bein^  too  ill  to  rise.  Monsey  expressed  his  surprise, 
as  it  was  time  for  Garrick  to  be  at  the  theatre  to  dress  for  King  Lear. 
Garrick,  in  a  languid  and  whining  tone,  told  him  that  he  was  too 
much  indisposed  to  perform  himself,  but  that  there  was  an  actor 
named  Marr,  so  like  him  in  figure,  face,  and  voice,  and  so  admirable 
a  mimic,  that  he  had  ventured  to  trust  the  part  to  him,  and  was  sure 
that  the  audience  would  not  perceive  the  difference.  Monsey  in  vain 
expostulated  with  him  on  the  hazard  which  he  would  incur  of  public 
displeasure,  as  it  was  impossible  that  the  attempt  should  succeed. 
Garrick  pretended  to  be  worse,  and  requested  Monsey  to  leave  the 
room  that  he  might  get  a  little  sleep,  but  desired  him  to  attend  the 
theatre  and  let  him  know  the  result.  As  soon  as  the  doctor  quitted 
the  room,  Garrick  jumped  out  of  bed  and  hastened  to  the  theatre. 
Monsey,  partly  in  compliance  with  Garrick's  desire,  and  partly  from 
curiosity  to  witness  so  extraordinary  an  experiment,  attended  the 
performance.  Having  left  Garrick  in  bed,  Monsey  was  bewildered 
by  the  scene  before  him,  sometimes  doubting,  and  sometimes  being 
astonished  at  the  resemblance  between  Garrick  and  Marr.  At  length, 
finding  that  the  audience  were  convinced  of  Garrick's  identity,  Mon- 
sey began  to  suspect  that  a  trick  had  been  practised  upon  him,  and 
hurried  to  Garrick's  house  at  the  end  of  the  play ;  but  Garrick  was 
too  quick  for  him,  and  had  resumed  his  situation  in  bed  :  having  drawn 
the  quilt  over  part  of  the  dress  of  King  Lear  which  he  had  not  time 
to  remove,  he  was  found  by  Monsey  in  the  same  apparent  state  of 
illness.  Some  friends  of  Garrick,  who  had  been  let  into  the  secret, 
and  were  present  at  the  performance,  witnessed  and  enjoyed  the  per- 
plexity of  Monsey  during  the  whole.  As  Monsey  himself  was  in- 
clined to  play  tricks  with  his  friends,  this  whimsical  deception  was 
deemed  but  retributive  justice  on  the  part  of  Garrick,  and  Monsey 
the  next  day  shared  in  the  laugh  at  his  own  expense,  determining 
however  to  retaliate,  and  he  probably  revenged  himself  on  the  first 
opportunity.  No  persons  could  take  more  liberties  with  each  other 
than  Garrick  and  Monsey,  and  none  could  be  more  prolific  in  prompt 
and  facetious  abuse. 


PARSONS — EDWIN — MOODY. 


245 


Pahsons.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  actor,  who  was 
one  of  the  best  comic  performers  within  my  remembrance.  He 
began  the  profession  with  true  comic  humour,  which,  combined  with 
great  observation  of  the  living  world,  enabled  him  to  become  an  exact 
representative  of  the  characters  within  the  province  of  his  powers. 
He  was  originally  a  true  natural  actor,  but  without  losing  sight  of 
nature,  he  latterly  seemed  disposed  to  reduce  acting  to  a  system. 
He  told  anecdotes  without  labour  and  with  strong  effect.  I  observed 
him  particularly  in  company,  and  have  heard  him  examine  a  story 
when  related  by  another,  as  a  mechanic  would  examine  the  structure 
of  an  instrument,  noticing  in  a  low  voice  the  several  parts  of  the  nar- 
rative, whether  sly,  ironical,  sarcastic,  or  ludicrous,  yet  not  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  disturb  the  narrator. 

His  foresight  was  admirable  ;  and  here  I  may  properly  notice  the 
variations  of  fashion,  for  the  very  dress  that  Wilks,  a  celebrated  actor 
in  the  time  of  Betterton  and  Booth,  used  to  wear  when  he  performed 
Sir  Harry  Wildair,  was  identically  the  same  as  that  which  Parsons 
wore  in  Foresight.  He  was  excellent  in  clowns,  drunken  men,  and 
old  coxcombs,  and  always  contented  himself  with  what  the  author 
had  written.  He  was  somewhat  of  a  cynical  disposition  in  general, 
but,  though  warm,  never  intentionally  rough  to  individuals.  The 
public  hardly  need  be  reminded  of  his  excellence  in  Crabtree,  and 
Sir  Fretful  Plagiary. 

He  had  skill  in  landscape-painting,  was  very  fond  of  pictures,  and 
particularly  of  the  works  of  Wilson,  of  which  I  have  seen  some  of  his 
copies,  which  displayed  considerable  merit. 

Edwin.  This  actor  was  another  proof  of  the  vicissitudes  of  public 
taste.  When  he  first  appeared  at  the  Hay  market  theatre,  in  the 
time  of  Foote,  in  one  of  the  plays  written  by  that  author,  Edwin  had 
so  much  of  the  grimace  of  a  country  actor,  so  disagreeable  a  voice> 
such  an  uncouth  form,  and  such  a  shambling  gait,  that  he  made  a  very 
unfavourable  impression,  and  was  actually  hissed  when  I  was  in  the 
theatre.  Yet  he  gradually  grew  upon  the  audience,  and  at  last  be- 
came one  of  the  chief  comic  favourites  of  the  public,  particularly  in 
the  whimsical  farces  of  Mr.  O'Keeffe,  in  several  of  which  characters 
were  designed  expressly  for  him,  and  he  fully  executed  the  design  of 
the  author.  In  private  life  he  was  a  coarse  vulgar  man,  much 
addicted  to  drinking  and  swearing,  seldom,  if  ever,  uttering  a  sentence 
without  an  oath. 

Moody.  I  was  but  slightly  acquainted  with  this  actor,  yet  what  I 
knew  of  him  convinced  me  that  he  was  a  very  shrewd  man,  but  too 
fond  of  money.  He,  indeed,  made  no  scruple  to  acknowledge  him- 
self a  miser.  A  friend  of  his,  named  Barford,  whom  I  knew,  called 
on  him  one  day  in  summer  and  found  him  cutting  wood.  Barford 
offered  to  help  him,  and  devoted  an  hour  or  two  to  that  occupation, 
even  during  the  heat  of  the  day.  At  length  he  became  thirsty,  and 
asked  Moody  for  some  beer.  Moody  fetched  a  bottle,  drew  the 
cork,  and  gave  Barford  a  tumbler-full.  He  then  put  the  cork  in,  and 
was  going  to  take  it  away.  Barford  stopped  him,  and  said  he  should 


246 


RECORDS  OF  MY  Ltf£. 


want  more.  "  I  own/'  replied  Moody,  "  you  have  deserved  it,  but 
it  goes  to  my  heart  to  give  it  you."— He  once  lent  money  to  Mr. 
Brereton  the  actor.  Brereton  did  not  return  it  immediately,  and 
Moody  waited  with  some  degree  of  patience.  At  length  the  first  time 
Moody  met  him,  he  looked  earnestly  at  him,  and  vented  a  kind  of 
noise  between  a  sigh  and  a  groan.  He  repeated  this  interjection 
whenever  he  met  Brereton,  who  at  length  was  so  annoyed,  that  he 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  paid  him.  Moody  took  the  money, 
and  with  a  gentler  aspect,  said,  "  Did  I  ask  you  for  it,  Billy?" 

I  dined  with  him  once  at  Mr.  Kemble's  when  he  began  to  exhibit 
signs  of  age.  Mr.  Kemble  during  the  whole  time  called  him  Gaffer, 
and  a  more  appropriate  appellation  could  hardly  have  been  given 
to  him,  as  he  displayed  a  kind  of  venerable  rustic  aspect.  He  mingled 
little  in  conversation,  but  during  a  pause  suddenly  broke  out  into  an 
anecdote  of  a  ludicrous  kind,  which  diverted  the  company,  and  he  then 
relapsed  into  silence.  He  had  been  a  handsome  man.  His  features 
were  regular  and  expressive,  but  his  person  was  stout  and  heavy.  He 
had  a  powerful  and  well- toned  voice.  In  low  Irish  character  he  had 
no  competitor  in  his  day,  and  Churchill  pays  a  liberal  compliment  to 
him  and  his  country  in  "  The  Rosciad."  His  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and  good  sense,  enabled  him  to  do  justice  to  all  the  characters  he 
represented  ;  but  as  he  became  larger  in  person,  he  grew  sluggish  and 
torpid  in  his  acting.  His  manners  were  not  suited  to  the  Irish  gen- 
tleman, and  though  he  acted  with  strength  and  effect,  his  Major 
OTlaherty  was  much  surpassed  by  the  late  Mr.  Johnstone,  who,  if  he 
did  not  exceed  Moody  in  Foigard,  was  fully  equal  to  him. 

Moody's  Sir  Sampson  Legend  was  an  admirable  performance.  I 
sat  once  with  Dr.  Wolcot  at  "  Love  for  Love,"  and  he  said  he 
thought  it  the  most  perfect  assumption  of  character  he  had  ever  seen. 
His  Adam,  in  "  As  You  Like  It,"  was  much  admired,  but  by  his  ac- 
cent he  certainly  made  Adam  an  Irishman.  He  lived  on  Barnes 
Common,  on  retiring  from  the  stage,  and  dated  his  letter  to  the  eight 
performers  who  had  entered  into  opposition  to  the  manager  of  Covent 
Garden  theatre,  from  "an  obscure  corner  of  the  Thames."  He 
encouraged  them  to  persevere,  and  ludicrously  said  in  his  letter,  "  Do 
ye  want  any  money  V  though,  if  they  had,  he  was  probably  the  last 
person  from  whom  they  could  have  reason  to  expect  it.  He  grew 
at  last  so  negligent  in  his  acting,  that  his  Major  Oldfox  was  a  mass  of 
torpid  languor ;  and  when  he  appeared  in  one  of  the  witches  in 
"  Macbeth,"  his  boots  were  plainly  seen  under  her  petticoats.  The 
last  time  I  ever  saw  him  was  at  the  late  Mr.  Weltje's,  at  Hammer- 
smith, where  he  called  as  he  went  to  Shepherd's  Bush,  his  last  resi- 
dence. The  conversation  happened  to  turn  on  Mr.  Sheridan,  who 
was  then  alive,  and  who  survived  Moody.  Some  considerable 
arrears  of  salary  had  been  due  to  Moody,  who  had  threatened  to  go  to 
Stafford,  for  which  Sheridan  was  then  a  candidate,  and  to  state  his 
case  to  the  electors.    He  then  soon  obtained  his  money. 

The  conversation,  as  I  have  observed,  turning  upon  Sheridan  the 
last  time  I  saw  Moody,  he  said,  "  I  have  the  highest  respect  for  Mr. 


MACKLIN, 


247 


Sheridan  ;  I  honour  his  talents,  and  would  do  any  thing  to  show  my 
friendship  for  him,  but  take  his  word."  Having  seen  him  nearly  in 
the  prime  of  life,  I  was  shocked,  at  this  last  meeting,  to  see  the 
vast  alteration  in  his  person.  His  handsome  manly  countenance 
was  pallid,  wrinkled,  and  cadaverous.  His  robust  frame  had  become 
feeble,  and  he  required  help  in  walking,  but  I  saw  in  his  notice  of 
Mr.  Sheridan,  that  his  master  passion,  the  love  of  money,  had  by  no 
means  partaken  of  his  general  decay. 

The  earlier  part  of  his  theatrical  life  had  been  passed  in  Jamaica, 
and  being  accustomed  to  the  manners  of  the  negroes,  the  part  of 
Mungo  was  originally  intended  for  him  ;  but  Dibdin,  the  author  of 
"  The  Padlock,"  wished  to  perform  it  himself,  and  it  was  impossible 
that  anybody  could  have  performed  it  with  more  spirit,  humour,  and 
character.  The  afterpiece  itself  was  the  most  popular  within  my 
remembrance.  It  had  the  support  originally  of  the  elder  Bannister, 
Vernon,  Dibdin,  and  Mrs.  Arne,  wife  of  Michael  Arne,  who  was 
esteemed  the  best  singer  of  her  time,  but  who  unhappily  died  in 
early  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Charles  Macklin.  I  knew  this  actor  in  the  decline  of  his  life,  or 
rather  in  his  old  age.  He  was  a  man  of  an  irritable  disposition,  but 
very  civil  and  affable  when  not  contradicted.  The  first  time  I  had 
any  personal  intercourse  with  him  was  in  the  front  boxes  of  Covent 
Garden  theatre.  He  was  accustomed  to  express  his  opinions  aloud, 
if  any  thing  struck  him  on  the  stage.  In  that  audible  manner  he  said 
something  which  did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  well-founded,  and  I  ven- 
tured to  express  a  different  opinion ; — the  partition  of  the  boxes  only 
between  us.  Whether  he  assented  to  my  opinion,  and  was  too  proud 
to  concur,  or  whether  his  irascible  temper  resented  my  forwardness, 
I  know  not,  but  he  immediately  raised  his  voice  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  all  over  the  theatre,  and  said— "Write  down  what  you  have 
said,  sir,  and  I  will  answer  it."  I  was  awed  into  silence,  for  two 
reasons, — one,  because  I  was  really  too  diffident  to  answer  this  voci- 
ferous speech  of  the  veteran  ;  and  the  other,  because  I  was  afraid 
that  people  at  a  distance  might  suppose  I  had  insulted  him  ;  I  there- 
fore made  no  reply. 

Some  years  after  this,  I  met  him  at  the  house  of  Merlin,  the  great 
mechanic,  in  Prince's-street,  Hanover-square.  Merlin  attended  him 
with  great  respect,  aud  displayed  all  his  curious  mechanical  works  to 
him.  Macklin  was  delighted,  and  seemed  to  be  particularly  gratified 
with  a  stool  on  which  he  turned  himself  about  with  ease  ;  and  he 
uttered  many  humorous  sallies  on  the  occasion.  When  he  had  suffi- 
ciently diverted  the  persons  present,  and  gratified  his  own  curiosity 


248 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


with  the  extraordinary  skill  and  ingenuity  which  all  Merlin's  works 
displayed,  Macklin  quitted  his  moveable  seat,  and,  looking  at  Merlin, 
uttered  these  words,  with  a  gravity  almost  solemn  :  "  Sir,  if  I  were  a 
despotic  monarch,  I  would  have  you  confined  in  a  room  ;  I  would 
supply  all  your  wants  and  wishes  ;  I  should  then  say  to  you,  for  the 
benefit  of  mankind,  Think  f  The  last  word  he  pronounced  in  the 
most  emphatic  manner,  and  then  retired  respectfully  from  the  com- 
pany. The  beginning  of  this  speech,  and  the  awful  manner  in  which 
it  was  delivered,  for  a  moment  seemed  to  terrify  Merlin,  but  the  com- 
plimentary conclusion  evidently  gave  him  much  pleasure. 

When  Macklin  was  announced  for  Macbeth,  at  Covent  Garden 
theatre,  my  father's  old  friend,  Mr.  Brooke,  told  me  he  would  write 
to  Macklin  for  an  order,  and  that  if  I  would  take  it,  I  should  go  with 
him  to  the  play.  I  took  the  note,  which  contained  a  request  for  an 
order  for  his  old  friend  Jemmy  Brooke.  Macklin  wrote  an  answer  in 
my  presence,  which  I  well  recollect  was  in  the  following  words  : — 

"  Mr.  Macklin  presents  his  compliments  to  his  old  friend  Jemmy 
Brooke.  He  always  valued  the  man,  and  the  pleasure  of  thinking  he 
was  his  friend  ;  wishes  to  increase  the  idea,  and  begs  he  will  accept 
the  enclosed  order  for  two." 

I  remember  to  have  dined  with  Macklin  at  the  house  of  a  clergyman 
named  Clarke,  who  had  paid  Opie  for  a  portrait  of  him.  The  Rev. 
Mr.  Whalley,  the  editor  of  the  works  of  Ben  Jonson  and  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher,  was  of  the  party.  This  learned,  intelligent,  and 
pleasant  gentleman,  wTho,  I  believe,  was  one  of  the  masters  of  Mer- 
chant Tailors'  School,  was  afterward,  as  1  understood,  obliged  to 
leave  this  country,  having,  like  myself,  been  ensnared  by  a  false  friend 
to  accept  bills  which  he  was  unable  to  discharge.  I  am  afraid  that 
this  respectable  gentleman,  acute  critic,  and  agreeable  companion, 
-was  never  able  to  return  to  England.  I  remember  that  though  the 
party  was  made  chiefly  on  account  of  Macklin,  he  said,  that  if  a  man 
was  thought  of  importance  enough  to  have  his  portrait  painted,  he 
ought  to  be  paid  for  lending  his  features.  Whether  this  remark  was 
intended  as  a  hint  to  our  host,  I  know  not,  but  it  illustrates  the  rough 
and  interested  character  of  Macklin. 

The  character  of  Macbeth  had  been  hitherto  performed  in  the 
attire  of  an  English  general ;  but  Macklin  was  the  first  who  per- 
formed it  in  the  old  Scottish  garb.  His  appearance  was  previously 
announced  by  the  Coldstream  March,  which  I  then  thought  the  most 
delightful  music  I  had  ever  heard  ;  and  I  never  hear  it  now  without 
most  pleasing  recollections.  When  Macklin  appeared  on  the  bridge^ 
he  was  received  with  shouts  of  applause,  which  were  repeated 
throughout  his  performance.  I  was  seated  in  the  pit,  and  so  near  the 
orchestra  that  I  had  a  full  opportunity  of  seeing  him  to  advantage. 
Garrick's  representation  of  the  character  was  before  my  time  ;  Mack- 
lin's  was  certainly  not  marked  by  studied  grace  of  deportment ;  but 
he  seemed  to  be  more  earnest  in  the  character  than  any  actor  I  have 
subsequently  seen. 

Here  I  must  stop  for  a  moment  to  say,  that  when  Mr.  John  Kern- 


MACKLIN. 


249 


ble  first  performed  the  part,  he  sent  a  note  to  me,  requesting  I  would 
be  present,  saying,  "  My  soul  and  body  on  the  action,  both /"  I  well 
recollect  his  performance.  It  was  animated  with  more  spirit  than  I 
had  ever  seen  in  his  previous  efforts  ;  and  they  who  saw  his  Pierre, 
after  he  resigned  Jaffier,  and  in  which  he  exhibited  the  most  gallant 
ardour,  may  form  some  conception  of  his  mode  of  expressing  the  fiery 
passages  of  Macbeth.  I  often  saw  him  afterward  in  the  same  part, 
and  ventured  to  tell  him  that  he  never  equalled  his  first  performance. 
"  Why  surely,  Taylor,"  said  he,  "  you  must  be  wrong.  What !  do 
you  think  I  have  not  improved  in  twenty  years  ?"  This,  however, 
he  said  in  perfect  good-humour. 

To  return  to  Macklin.  My  friend  Arthur  Murphy  admitted  his 
want  of  grace,  but  contended  for  his  correctness,  judgment,  and 
energy,  happily  styling  his  performance  as  "a  black-letter  copy  of 
Macbeth:' 

I  attended  his  performance  two  nights  after.  A  party  had  been 
raised  against  him,  consisting,  as  reported,  of  the  friends  of  Reddish; 
and  he  experienced  a  mixed  reception,  but  applause  predominated. 
He  announced  his  intention  of  developing  the  conspiracy  which  had 
been  raised  against  him,  on  his  next  appearance.  I  was  again  present. 
He  came  forward  in  his  usual  dress,  and  was  well  received.  The 
audience  called  for  a  chair,  on  which  he  sat,  and  began  his  story. 
He  offered  however  no  satisfactory  proof,  and  the  audience  began  to 
murmur.  He  then  said  he  had  authority  upon  which  he  could  con- 
fidently rely ;  and  in  a  pathetic  tone,  putting  his  hand  before  his  eyes 
as  if  he  was  shedding  tears,  said,  "  It  was  my  wife."  The  audience 
then  expressed  their  disapprobation,  and  would  hear  no  more.  He 
was,  however,  again  announced  for  Macbeth ;  and  desirous  of  witness- 
ing the  end  of  the  affair,  I  went  the  third  time.  The  opposing  party 
had  then  gained  the  ascendant,  and  he  was  saluted  with  a  violent  hiss 
as  soon  as  he  appeared  ;  and  this  hostility  was  so  determined,  that  he 
went  through  the  part  in  dumb  show,  for  not  a  word  could  be  heard ; 
yet  silence  and  applause  attended  all  the  other  performers.  I  did 
not  attend  on  the  fourth  night,  but  met  a  friend  who  had  just  left  the 
theatre,  and  who  told  me  that  a  board  was  brought  forward  on  the 
stage,  on  which  was  written,  "  Mr.  Macklin  is  discharged  from  this 
theatre." 

He  had  certainly  given  no  provocation  for  this  hostility,  except  to 
certain  critics  who  presumed  to  think  that  he  had  no  right  to  attempt 
a  part  so  different  from  his  usual  style  of  acting.  He  discovered 
some  of  the  party,  brought  an  action  against  them,  and  they  were 
cast.  On  hearing  the  verdict  in  the  court,  Macklin  arose,  and 
addressing  the  judge,  declared  that  he  did  not  seek  for  any  damages, 
but  only  wished  to  vindicate  his  character,  and  to  support  the  rights 
of  his  profession.  The  judge  said :  "  Mr.  Macklin,  I  have  often 
admired  your  talents,  but  you  have  never  acted  better  than  on  this 
occasion."  After  being  discharged  from  Covent  Garden  theatre, 
Macklin  went  to  Ireland,  where,  being  a  native  of  the  country,  and 
admired  as  an  actor,  he  was  well  received. 


RJECORDfl   OF  MY  LIFE. 


Many  years  elapsed,  when  he  returned  to  London,  resumed  his 
situation  at  that  theatre,  and  appeared  in  his  favourite  part  of  Shy- 
lock.  His  memory,  however,  was  evidently  impaired  ;  and  after  sev- 
eral attempts  to  repeat  the  character,  he  was  at  length  obliged  to  re- 
linquish the  stage.  Not  having  provided  for  old  age,  he  was  in  dan- 
ger of  being  reduced  to  a  necessitous  condition,  but  his  friend  Arthur 
Murphy  issued  proposals  for  publishing  by  subscription  his  play  of 
"  The  Man  of  the  World,"  and  the  farce  of  "  Love  a  la  Mode,"  to 
which  was  prefixed  a  print  of  himself,  from  a  very  strong  likeness  by 
Opie.  The  subscription  was  warmly  patronised,  and  I  had  the  plea- 
sure of  contributing  my  mite  on  the  occasion. 

Macklin's  devotion  to  the  stage  continued  long  after  he  had  quitted 
it.  He  was,  of  course,  indulged  by  the  late  Mr.  Harris  with  the 
freedom  of  the  theatre,  when  he  frequently  took  his  station  in  the  first 
row  of  the  pit ;  and  if  an  actor's  voice  did  not  reach  him,  he  was  sure 
to  get  up,  and  in  a  commanding  tone  say,  "  Speak  louder,  sir,  I 
cannot  hear  you."  The  actors,  in  general,  tolerated  his  peculiari- 
ties, and  he  lived  upon  good  terms  with  them.  He  had  not,  however, 
relinquished  his  dramatic  pen ;  for  he  met  me  one  day,  and  told  me 
that  he  would  fix  a  day  when  he  would  give  me  a  beefsteak  ;  that  the 
windows  should  be  shut  and  the  door  locked  after  dinner,  and  he 
would  read  to  me  a  comedy  which  he  had  written.  His  increasing 
infirmities,  however,  prevented  his  making  the  appointment,  and  I 
therefore  probably  escaped  from  a  trial  of  patience  ;  for,  as  he  was  of 
an  overbearing  disposition,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  acquiesce 
in  the  propriety  of  all  I  was  to  hear,  or  expose  myself  to  the  violence 
of  his  temper. 

His  origin  was  doubtful ;  but  I  remember  he  told  me,  when  I  had 
"become  better  acquainted  with  him,  that  when  he  first  came  to  Lon- 
don, he  went  to  a  relation  of  his  mother,  who  kept  a  public-house  in 
Lincoln's- Inn  Fields,  where  there  were  then  but  few  houses,  and,  as  I 
understood,  acted  as  a  v/aiter.  Tired  and  ashamed  of  this  situation, 
he  returned  to  Ireland,  and  joined  a  strolling  company  of  actors.  At 
length  he  obtained  a  situation  on  the  Dublin  stage,  and  afterward  in 
London.  He  told  me  that  his  first  performance  of  Shylock  was  in 
Lord  Lansdown's  alteration  of  Shakspeare's  play,  which  was  brought 
forward  under  the  title  of  "  The  Jew  of  Venice  ;"  and  that  it  was  for 
his  performance  in  this  play  that  the  following  well-known  couplet 
was  written  upon  him  : 

This  is  the  Jew 

That  Shakspeare  drew. 

He  said  the  pit  was  at  that  period  generally  attended  by  a  more 
select  audience  than  were  to  be  seen  there  at  the  present  time.  As 
far  as  I  can  recollect,  the  following  were  his  words  : — "  Sir,  you  then 
saw  no  red  cloaks,  and  heard  no  pattens  in  the  pit,  but  you  saw  mer- 
chants from  the  city  with  big  wigs,  lawyers  from  the  Temple  with  big 


MACKLIN 


251 


wigs,  and  physicians  from  the  coffee-houses  with  big  wigs  ;  and  the 
whole  exhibited  such  a  formidable  grizzle  as  might  well  shake  the 
nerves  of  actors  and  authors."  His  reputation  being  established, 
he  was  then  engaged  by  Mr.  Fleetwood  for  Drury-lane  theatre. 

Dr.  Wolcot  and  i  were  one  evening  at  the  Rainbow  in  King-street, 
Covent  Garden,  a  coffee-house  where  we  used  often  to  sup,  when 
Macklin  came  into  one  of  the  boxes.  As  the  doctor  wanted  to  have 
some  intercourse  with  the  veteran,  and  as  I  was  acquainted  with  him, 
we  joined  him,  and  were  glad  to  find  him  in  a  talking  mood.  I 
found  his  memory  much  impaired,  but  he  recollected  facts,  though 
he  forgot  names.  My  little  acquaintance  with  theatrical  history, 
however,  enabled  me  to  prompt  him,  and  he  told  the  following  story 
nearly  as  1  shall  give  it. 

"  Sir,  I  remember  I  once  played  the  character  of  the  boy  who 
wears  red  breeches  and  offends  his  mother."  "Jerry  Blackaire, 
in  *  The  Plain  Dealer,9  I  suppose,"  said  I.  "  Yes,  sir,  that  was  the 
part.  Well,  sir,  I  played  a  great  number  of  tricks  to  divert  the 
audience  ;  and  the  chief  part  was  played  by  the  surly,  fat  fellow, 
whose  name  I  have  forgot."  "  Probably  Quin,  sir."  "  Ay,  sir,  that 
was  the  man.  Well,  sir,  when  I  went  into  the  green-room,  the 
surly,  fat  man  began  to  scold  me,  and  told  me  that  while  I  played 
my  tricks,  it  was  impossible  to  have  a  chaste  scene  with  me.  I  told 
him  that,  different  as  our  cast  was,  I  had  the  public  to  please  as  well 
as  himself.  '  But,  sir,'  said  he,  you  must  get  rid  of  your  tricks.5  I 
said  I  could  not.  « But,  sir,'  said  he,  < you  shall.'  By  this  time  I  was 
provoked,  and  said,  1  You  lie  ;'  upon  which  he  threw  an  apple  that  he 
was  mumbling  into  my  face.  Sir,  I  was  a  fighting  cull  in  those 
days,  and  I  paid  him  so  well  about  the  face  that  it  swelled,  and 
rendered  him  hardly  articulate.  He  was  obliged  to  go  on  the  stage 
again,  but  he  mumbled  his  part  so  much  that  he  was  hissed.  He 
left  the  stage,  and  somebody  went  forward  and  said  that  he  was 
suddenly  taken  ill.  Whether  he  finished  his  part  I  don't  remember, 
but  I  remember  that  at  the  end  of  the  play  he  sent  me  a  challenge, 
and  said  he  should  wait  for  me  at  the  pillar  in  Covent  Garden.  But, 
sir,  1  was  a  pantomime  cull  in  those  days,  and  I  sent  word  that  I  would 
come  to  him  when  the  entertainment  was  over.  But,  sir,  the  man- 
ager, a  sweet  man,  who  was  my  great  friend,  resolved  that  nothing  fatal 
should  take  place — I  forget  his  name."  "  Probably  Fleetwood,  sir." 
"  Ay,  that  was  the  man, — sent  a  message  to  the  surly  fellow  at  the 
pillar,  and  would  make  up  a  bed  for  me  in  the  theatre  for  fear  of  con- 
sequences, and  so  the  matter  ended." 

1  remember  this  pillar  in  the  middle  of  Covent  Garden.  It  had  a 
large  golden  ball  at  the  top,  which  I  afterward  saw  in  Mr.  Kemble's 
garden,  in  Great  Russell-street,  Bloomsbur}'.  Yet  Macklin  lost  the 
friendship  of  Fleetwood  by  joining  in  an  opposition  to  his  intention 
of  reducing  the  salaries  of  his  actors  ;  and  this  led  finally  to  a  rup- 
ture between  Macklin  and  Garrick,  though  the  latter  behaved  to  him 
with  great  generosity,  offering  to  divide  his  salary  with  him,  on  find- 


252 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFET 


ing  that  he  could  not  restore  him  to  Fleetwood's  favour.  The  whole 
transaction  is  stated  hy  Mr.  Murphy  in  his  life  of  Garrick,  and  all 
the  papers  are  given  which  passed  on  the  occasion.  Macklin's  case 
was  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Corbyn  Morris,  a  literary  gentleman  well  known 
at  that  time,  and  Garrick's  answer  by  Mr.  Guthrie,  the  historian. 
It  is  strange  that  Garrick  did  not  draw  up  his  own  case,  as  he  did 
not  want  literary  powers  either  in  prose  or  in  verse. 

It  is  well  known  that  Junius  addressed  a  brutal  letter  to  Garrick, 
on  a  suspicion  that  he  had  given  an  information  to  his  majesty  George 
the  Third,  that  Junius  would  write  no  more.  Garrick  sent  an  an- 
swer to  this  letter  in  a  very  spirited  yet  respectful  style.  Junius's 
brief  but  abusive  letter  was  not  published  at  the  time,  but  is  seen  in 
the  last  edition  of  Junius,  in  three  volumes,  including  all  the  private 
correspondence  between  Junius  and  Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Wocdfall, 
and  Junius  and  Wilkes,  &c. ;  but  as  the  letter  from  Junius  to  Garrick 
was  not  published  at  the  time,  Garrick's  answer  never  appeared.  I 
understand  that  it  will  appear  among  the  Garrick  papers,  which  will 
most  probably  be  published  before  the  present  work  is  put  to  press, 
and  will  show  Garrick  in  a  very  favourable  light. 

I  will  now  proceed  with  some  further  account  of  Macklin.  He 
displayed  the  violence  of  his  temper  in  thrusting  his  cane  into  the 
eye  of  Mr.  Hallam,  the  uncle  of  Mrs.  Mattocks,  the  admired  comic 
actress.  Mr.  Hallam  died  in  consequence  of  this  wound,  which  per- 
forated the  brain,  and  Macklin  was  tried  for  the  crime  at  the  Old 
Bailey,  but  acquitted,  because  it  did  not  proceed  from  malice  pre- 
pense. 

It  was  formerly  the  custom  with  the  actors  and  many  literary  char- 
acters of  the  time,  to  walk  in  the  piazzas  of  Covent  Garden  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  and  then  to  adjourn  to  dinner  at  the  Bedford  and 
other  coffee-houses  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  Mr.  Murphy  assured 
me  that  he  was  present  at  the  following  scene.  Foote  was  walking 
with  one  party  of  friends,  and  Macklin  with  another.  Foote  diverted 
his  friends  at  the  expense  of  Macklin,  whom  he  not  only  turned  into 
ridicule,  but  attacked  his  character  on  all  points.  Macklin  was  not 
less  active  in  abusing  Foote.  This  scene  continued  for  some  time, 
and  the  reciprocal  attacks  seemed  to  receive  an  additional  stimulus 
as  they  passed  each  other.  At  length  all  the  friends  of  both  parties 
went  away,  and  Foote  and  Macklin  were  left  masters  of  the  field  ; 
but  Murphy  lingered  after  he  had  taken  leave  of  Foote,  merely  to 
see  how  the  combatants  would  treat  each  other.  To  his  surprise, 
Foote  advanced  to  Macklin,  and  said  in  an  amicable  manner, 
*«  Macklin,  as  we  are  left  alone,  suppose  we  take  a  beefsteak  to- 
gether." "  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Macklin  ;  and  they  adjourned 
to  the  Bedford,  as  if  they  had  been  the  best  of  friends.  They  after- 
ward, however,  came  to  an  open  rupture. 

Both  gave  public  readings,  in  which  they  introduced  the  most  vin- 
dictive abuse  of  each  other.  My  father  used  to  attend  them  both. 
Macklin  severely  arraigned  the  moral  character  of  Foote,  and  his 


MACK  LI  Jf.  253 

daring  impudence  in  exposing  private  persons  on  the  stage.  Foote 
was  sportive  and  inventive.  Among  other  matters  which  my  father 
told  me  of  this  warfare,  he  said  Foote  expressed  his  surprise  that 
Macklin  should  have  had  a  Latin  quotation  in  his  advertisement, — 
«« but  1  have  it,"  said  he  :  "  when  he  was  footman  to  a  wild  extrava- 
gant student  at  the  university,  and  carried  his  master's  books  to  the 
pawnbroker's,  he  probably  picked  up  this  quotation  on  the  way." 
After  a  pause,  Foote  added,  "  No,  that  could  not  be,  for  the  fellow 
could  not  read  at  the  time."  It  hardly  need  be  said  that  Macklin 
never  was  in  that  capacity.  The  belligerents,  however,  with  all  the 
solemnity  on  one  side,  and  all  the  wit  on  the  other,  tired  the  town, 
raised  the  siege,  and  became  good  friends  again. 

Macklin  was  a  severe  father.  He  gave  his  daughter,  indeed,  an 
accomplished  education,  and  for  some  years  came  annually  from  Dub- 
lin, his  head-quarters,  to  play  his  Shylock  and  Sir  Archy  for  her 
benefit ;  but  he  always  made  her  pay  for  the  journey  and  his  per- 
formance, and  she  was  always  obliged  to  lend  her  gold  watch  to  a 
friend  during  his  stay  in  London,  lest  he  should  insist  upon  having  it, 
as  he  was  too  austere  for  her  to  dispute  his  will.  Her  figure  was 
good,  and  her  manner  easy  and  elegant,  but  her  face  was  plain, 
though  animated  by  expression.  She  was  a  very  sprightly  actress, 
and  drew  from  real  life.  Her  character  through  life  was  not  only 
unimpeached,  but  highly  respected. 

Churchill  has  described  Macklin's  face  in  very  coarse  terms  in  his 
-"Rosciad  ;"  and  Quin  said  of  him,  "  If  God  writes  a  legible  hand,, 
that  fellow  is  a  villain."  At  another  time,  Quin  had  the  hardihood  to 
say  to  Macklin  himself,  "Mr.  Macklin,  by  the  lines — I  beg  your 
pardon,  sir — by  the  cordage  of  your  face,  you  should  be  hanged." 

In  Shylock,  in  Sir  Archy  Macsarcasm,  and  in  Sir  Pertinax  Mac- 
sycophant,  he  was,  in  my  opinion,  far  superior  to  all  his  successors. 
Cooke  might  speak  the  Scottish  language  belter,  but  he  did  not  fill 
the  stage  so  well,  and  had  not  such  a  biting  humour.  Mr.  Young 
has  lately  performed  Sir  Pertinax  with  merited  success. 

I  saw  Macklin  perform  Iago,  and  Sir  Paul  Pliant,  and  other  char- 
acters. In  Iago,  though  doubtless  he  was  correct  in  his  conception 
of  the  character,  hs  was  coarse  and  clumsy  in  his  deportment,  and 
nothing  could  be  more  rough  than  his  manner  of  stabbing  Emilia,  and 
running  from  the  stage  in  the  last  scene.  His  Sir  Paul  was  not  want- 
ing in  noisy  humour,  but  was  rude  in  action.  He  was  too  theoreti- 
cal for  nature.  He  had  three  pauses  in  his  acting — the  first,  mode- 
rate ;  the  second,  twice  as  long ;  but  his  last,  or  "grand  pause,"  as 
he  styled  it,  was  so  long,  that  the  prompter,  on  one  occasion,  thinking 
his  memory  failed,  repeated  the  cue,  as  it  is  technically  called,  several 
times,  and  at  last  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  by  the  audience.  At  length 
Macklin  rushed  from  the  stage  and  knocked  him  down,  exclaiming, 
44  The  fellow  interrupted  me  in  my  grand  pause." 

Macklin  had  a  son,  who  I  believe  held  a  place  in  a  government 
office,  and  according  to  report,  died  in  India.    His  features  were 

M 


254 


RECORDS  OF  MT  LIFE. 


even  more  plain  than  those  of  his  father.  I  never  heard  that  he  was 
at  all  distinguished  for  talents.  He  was  once  pointed  out  to  me  as 
the  son  of  Macklin,  and  I  saw  him  again.  He  was  a  person  of  whom 
nothing  was  heard  either  good  or  bad. 

There  are  two  Lives  of  Macklin,  one  in  a  single  volume  written  by 
his  and  my  old  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  the  barrister,  the  author  of  "  The 
Life  of  Foote,"  and  many  temporary  pamphlets,  besides  a  very  good 
poem  entitled  "  Conversation."  Here  I  may  relate  a  circumstance 
which  manifests  an  extraordinary  revolution  in  the  life  of  a  conspicu- 
ous character.  A  lieutenant  in  the  royal  navy  had  written  a  politi- 
cal pamphlet,  but  being  called  to  his  duty,  was  not  able  to  see  it 
through  the  press.  He  therefore  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  a  book- 
seller, desiring  that  he  would  give  it  to  some  literary  man,  who,  for 
duly  preparing  it  for  publication,  should  have  half  the  profits.  The 
bookseller  gave  it  Mr.  Cooke,  who  soon  discharged  his  duty.  The 
work  was  published,  and  the  profits  were  thirty  pounds,  all  of  which 
was  given  to  Mr.  Cooke,  who  took  his  portion,  and  reserved  the  other 
half  for  the  author  whenever  he  should  call  for  it.  Many  years  elapsed 
and  he  heard  nothing  of  him.  At  length  a  gentleman  called  on  him, 
told  his  name,  and  declared  himself  to  be  the  author  of  the  pam- 
phlet, telling  him  he  knew  that  fifteen  pounds  were  due  to  him  on 
account  of  the  pamphlet,  and  adding,  he  was  ashamed  to  take  it,  but 
that  "  his  poverty  and  not  his  will"  consented,  as  he  had  a  wife  and  an 
increasing  family.  Mr.  Cooke  had  the  money  ready  for  him,  which 
the  stranger  took,  and  expressed  his  gratitude  at  parting.  This 
necessitous  author  was  the  late  Lord  Erskine. 

This  fact  may  be  depended  on,  upon  the  unquestionable  authority 
of  Mr.  Cooke. 

The  other  "  Life  of  Macklin,"  in  two  volumes,  was  written  by  a 
literary  gentleman  who  was  reputed  to  be  a  son  of  Macklin.  Mr. 
Cooke's,  however,  was  likely  to  be  the  most  authentic  account,  as 
he  had  known  Macklin  from  an  early  period,  and  gave  in  it  a  general 
history  of  the  stage  during  Mackiin's  time. 

It  has  been  generally  understood  that  Dr.  Johnson  alluded  to  Mack- 
lin when  he  spoke  of  a  person  whose  conversation  was"  a  perpetual 
renovation  of  hope,  with  a  constant  disappointment."  As  far  as  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  judging,  the  description  was  just.  Macklin 
was  fond  of  talking,  and  generally  had  all  the  talk  to  himself,  for  the 
company  were  unwilling  to  interrupt  a  man  at  his  very  advanced  age, 
expecting  that  something  of  historical,  political,  or  theatrical  matter 
would  be  learned  from  him.  He  mentioned  Booth,  Wilks,  and  Cib- 
ber  ;  and  when  on  the  eve  of  telling  a  story  of  one,  he  rambled  from 
one  to  the  other,  and  nothing  connected  could  be  obtained.  He 
mentioned  Mrs.  Oldtield  with  so  much  warmth  and  admiration,  that 
we  expected  to  hear  something  of  her  private  history,  or  of  her  act- 
ing ;  yet  all  we  learned  was,  that  she  had  lived  with  Mr.  Arthur  Main- 
waring,  which  all  the  world  knew. 

Booth's  widow,  he  said,  who  upwards  of  forty  years  after  the  death 


MACKLIN — MR.  SHERIDAN,  SENIOR. 


255 


of  her  husband,  placed  a  monument  to  his  memory  in  Poet's  Corner^ 
Westminster  Abbey  (and  whose  maiden  name  was  Santlow),  was  an 
admirable  dancer,  and  had  a  very  fine  head  of  hair,  which,  in  the 
middle  of  a  dance,  she  always  contrived  to  throw  over  her  neck  and 
shoulders  in  a  very  interesting  and  picturesque  manner. 

The  hours,  however,  did  not  pass  without  amusement,  for  it  was 
gratifying  to  see  a  man  so  much  advanced  in  life,  with  high  spirits  and 
strong  lungs,  particularly  as  we  were  buoyed  up  all  the  time  by  the 
expectation  of  hearing  something  entertaining,  nor  were  we  alto- 
gether disappointed.  There  was  a  print  from  Opie's  portrait,  which 
accompanied  Macklin's  works  as  published  by  subscription  by  his 
friend  Arthur  Murphy. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  Macklin  was  in  Henrietta-street,  Covenfc 
Garden,  during  a  very  severe  frost,  when  the  snow  had  hardened  on 
the  ground.  He  was  well  muffled  up  in  a  great  coat,  and  walked  to 
and  fro  with  great  vigour.  I  addressed  him,  and  said,  "  Well,  Mr, 
Macklin,  I  suppose  you  are  comparing  the  merits  of  former  actors 
with  those  of  the  present  day."  "  The  what  of  the  present  day?'* 
said  he,  in  a  very  loud  tone  ;  "  the  what,  sir  ?"  in  a  louder  tone, "  the 
actors,  sir  ?"  He  repeated  his  question  with  a  voice  that  made  the 
whole  street  ring.  "  Perhaps,  sir,"  said  I,  "  you  will  not  allow  the 
present  race  to  be  actors."  "  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  he,  and  ab- 
ruptly parted  from  me,  resuming  his  walk  with  extraordinary  strength 
and  speed. 

His  first  wife,  who  was  long  before  my  time,  I  have  always  heard 
was  an  excellent  actress.  Plain  as  Macklin  was  when  I  knew  him* 
my  mother  assured  me  that  she  remembered  him  to  be  a  smart-look- 
ing dark  man,  and  a  very  sprightly  actor,  even  in  juvenile  parts,  but 
hard  in  his  manner,  and  apt  to  resort  to  his  pauses,  which  he  after- 
ward graduated  as  I  have  before  mentioned. 

I  have  perhaps  dwelt  too  long  upon  Macklin,  but  as  he  was  a  popu- 
lar actor,  a  good  dramatic  writer,  and  a  distinguished  person  in  his> 
day,  he  ought  not  to  be  hastily  dismissed,  since  very  few  in  his  profes- 
sion have  come  before  the  public  with  equal  pretensions  to  their 
favour. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

With  Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan,  the  father  of  Mr.  Richard  Brins- 
ley  Sheridan,  who  was  so  justly  celebrated  for  his  dramatic  geniusj* 
political  knowledge,  and  oratorical  powers,  I  was  slightly  acquainted  - 
sufficient,  however,  to  convince  me  that  he  was  a  grave,  sensible^, 
and  intelligent  man,  polite,  but  reserved  in  his  manners.  I  saw  him 
perform  Hamlet  and  Brutus  at  the  Haymarket  theatre,  and  as  far 
as  I  recollect  of  his  acting,  Churchill  has  given  a  just  description  of 

M2 


256 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


him  in  his  "  Rosciad."  His  son,  Brinsley,  is  said  to  have  accounted 
for  his  not  having  seen  Garrick  so  often  as  he  wished,  after  he  had 
once  seen  him,  in  consequence  of  having  heard  from  bis  father  that 
he  himself  was  the  best  actor  of  the  time  ;  and  as  he  considered  his 
father  rather  a  declaimer  than  an  actor,  relying  then  upon  his  father's 
judgment  and  veracity,  he  felt  no  curiosity  to  see  Garrick.  How- 
ever, when  he  had  seen  him,  he  attributed  his  father's  opinion  of 
himself  to  that  natural  partiality  with  which  we  all  estimate  our  own 
merits. 

After  the  elder  Mr.  Sheridan  had  long  relinquished  acting,  he 
joined  with  Mr.  Henderson  in  public  readings,  for  which  they  were 
well  qualified  by  their  respective  talents.  Mr.  Sheridan  took  the 
graver,  and  Mr.  Henderson  the  lighter  and  facetious  department  of 
these  amusements,  which  were  very  attractive.  It  was  in  this  spe- 
cies of  entertainment  that  Mr.  Henderson  brought  into  notice  the 
humorous  tale  of  John  Gilpin,  which  he  recited  with  so  much  spirit 
and  comic  effect  that  it  drew  public  attention  to  the  poems  of  Cow- 
per  in  general,  which  excellent  as  they  are,  particularly  "  The  Task," 
were  but  little  known  at  the  time,  though  they  are  now  justly  in 
universal  estimation. 

Mr.  Sheridan,  in  his  portion  of  the  readings,  introduced  too  much 
of  his  dissertation  on  elocution,  which  was  by  no  means  suited  to  the 
taste  of  a  mixed  audience,  and  was  indeed  heavy  in  effect.  His 
recital  of  the  works  of  others  was  very  impressive,  but  his  voice 
was,  as  Churchiil  describes  it,  "irregular,  deep,  and  shrill  by  fits." 
He  gave  Shenstone's  "  Elegy  on  Jesse,"  in  a  very  pathetic  manner, 
but  his  chief  excellence  was  in  Dryden's  "Alexander's  Feast,"  which 
he  recited  by  heart,  and  in  the  most  animated  manner.  Indeed  I 
cannot  think  it  possible  for  anybody  to  recite  that  poem  in  a  more 
impressive  manner  or  with  stronger  effect.  The  great  charm,  how- 
ever, of  these  readings,  was  Mr.  Henderson's  John  Gilpin,  which 
rendered  the  tale  popular  in  all  quarters. 

Here  I  cannot  but  regret  that  I  had  not  the  genius  of  Covvper, 
for  my  tale  of  "  Monsieur  Tonson,"  which  was  admirably  recited  by 
Mr.  Fawcett,  was  not  less  popular  in  its  day,  and  drew  crowded 
audiences  to  Freemasons'  Tavern.  Several  of  the  actors,  among 
whom  were  Mr.  John  Palmer,  Mr.  Burton,  and  many  provincial 
performers,  called  on  me  requesting  that  I  would  read  it  to  them  that 
they  might  better  understand  the  conceptions  of  the  author.  They 
should  rather  have  applied  to  Mr.  Fawcett,  whose  example  would 
have  been  a  more  instructive  lesson.* 

The  story  has  since  been  dramatized  and  expanded  by  Mr.  Mon- 

*  As  I  was  one  morning  knocking  at  the  door  of  a  friend,  a  decent-looking  person, 
but  with  rough  manner,  addressed  me,  abruptly  saying,  "  Are  you  the  author  of 
Monsieur  Tonson  ?"  I  simply  answered,  "  I  own  my  guilt."  "  I  thought  so,"  said 
he,  and  went  away  with  equal  abruptness;  and  if  tiiis  may  be  considered  a  species 
of  fame,  I  have  Been  myself  pointed  at  in  coffee-houses  on  the  same  account. 


TOM  KING. 


257 


crief,  a  gentleman  whom  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing,  but 
who  has  done  me  the  honour  to  dedicate  his  humorous  farce  to  me. 

I  must  again  refer  to  the  readings,  because  they  are  connected 
with  a  ludicrous  anecdote.  Mr.  Henderson's  facetious  readings 
rendered  the  entertainment  so  popular  and  attractive  that  it  must  have 
been  very  profitable  to  the  performers;  but  notwithstanding  the 
emoluments,  Mr.  Sheridan  expressed  some  discontent,  "  For,"  said 
he,  "  I  wanted  the  readings  to  be  rather  instructive  than  diverting, 
and  calculated  to  attract  the  select  and  judicious  ;  but  Mr.  Henderson 
has  frustrated  my  intention  by  bringing  in  the  whole  town"  Those 
who  knew  the  grave  character  of  the  elder  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  his 
fondness  for  his  favourite  subject,  elocution,  will  not  be  surprised  at 
his  whimsical  disappointment. 

With  Mit.  Thomas  King,  generally  called  Tom  King  from  his 
easy  manners  and  facetious  talents,  I  was  well  acquainted.  Church- 
ill says  of  him, 

'MongBt  Drury's  sons  he  comes  and  shines  in  brass. 

It  has  been  supposed  by  some  that  the  critical  poet  alluded  to  his 
performance  of  Brass  in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Confederacy,"  but 
this  is  a  mistake.  He  was  indeed  admirable  in  that  character,  but 
the  poet  alluded  to  his  general  excellence  in  characters  of  a  bold  and 
spirited  nature,  such  as  the  bueks  and  bloods  of  that  time,  as  well  as 
to  the  daring  and  intrusive  characters  of  the  old  comedies. 

King  possessed  a  shrewd  mind,  and  copied  his  characters  from  real 
life,  and  from  the  manners  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  He  was 
admirable  in  story-telling  in  private  company,  and  when  any  persons 
beat  about  the  bush  to  draw  from  him  a  particular  story,  he  always 
stopped  them  and  said,  "  I  see  what  you  are  at,  don't  give  yourself 
any  trouble,"  and  he  would  then  begin  to  tell  a  facetious  anecdote, 
which  required  some  degree  of  acting,  as  if  it  was  some  narrative  of 
the  day.  My  friend  Donaldson,  of  whom  I  have  given  some  account, 
was  his  schoolfellow  at  Westminster. 

To  show  the  revolutions  of  a  theatrical  life,  Tom  King,  who  after- 
ward became  one  of  the  chief  comic  actors  of  his  time,  told  his 
friend  Donaldson  that,  soon  after  he  adopted  the  profession,  he  walked 
all  the  way  from  Beaconsfield  to  Southwark  to  procure  money  from 
a  friend  to  buy  a  pair  of  stockings,  and  when  he  walked  back  to 
perform  the  next  day,  his  share  of  the  profits  was  eighteen-pence, 
and  his  proportion,  on  a  division,  of  the  ends  of  candles. 

Poor  King  unfortunately  had  an  incurable  propensity  to  gaming. 
After  frequent  and  heavy  losses  he  won  one  evening  about  7000Z. 
He  immediately  left  the  gaming-table  and  ran  home.  His  wife  was 
in  bed  He  fell  upon  his  knees  by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  called 
vehemently  for  a  Bible.  Unhappily  there  was  no  such  unprofessional 
book  in  the  house,  but  King  remained  on  his  knees  and  solemnly 
swore  that  he  would  never  visit  a  gaming-table  again.    His  propen- 


258 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


sity,  however,  returned  upon  him,  and  he  ventured  his  all  one  night, 
which  was  won  by  a  colonel  in  the  British  army,  a  very  rich  man, 
not  without  a  strong  suspicion  that  he  was  guilty  of  false  play ;  and 
the  suspicion  was  so  near  proof,  that  he  went  to  all  the  clubs  of 
which  he  was  a  member  and  erased  his  name  from  the  books,  con- 
scious that,  when  an  explanation  took  place,  he  would  have  been 
dismissed  with  infamy  from  them  all.  This  man,  who  was  of  a  good 
family,  after  his  conduct  towards  King,  was  discarded  from  society, 
and  used  to  wander  alone  through  the  streets,  an  object  of  contempt 
to  all  who  had  before  known  and  respected  him. 

King  once  kept  his  carriage,  had  a  house  in  Great  Queen-street, 
X.incoln\s-Inn  Fields,  and  a  villa  at  Hampton,  near  the  mansion  of  • 
his  friend  Garrick,  who  held  him  in  high  regard  ;  but  his  fatal  turn 
for  gaming  deprived  him  of  these  advantages,  and  rendered  him  a 
poor  man  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  He  had  for  several  years 
been  attached  to  Miss  Baker,  a  celebrated  dancer  at  DruryJanc 
theatre,  and  happening  to  break  his  leg,  and  being  attended  by  her 
with  great  kindness  during  his  illness,  he  married  her  on  his  recovery, 
and  they  lived  many  years  as  happily  together  after  such  a  change 
-of  fortune,  the  result  of  his  own  imprudence,  as  could  well  be 
expected. 

It  is  lamentable  to  state  that  this  affectionate  wife,  who  had  shared 
prosperity  with  him,  when,  besides  the  advantages  which  I  have 
mentioned,  he  enjoyed  a  large  weekly  salary,  and  a  very  productive 
annual  benefit,  was  after  his  death  obliged  to  live  in  a  garret  in  Tot- 
tenham-court road,  supported  chiefly  by  those  who  knew  her  in 
better  days.  She  bore  the  reverse  of  her  fortune  with  patience  and 
submission ;  and  even  with  her  scanty  means,  by  her  taste  rendered 
her  apartment  an  agreeable  scene  of  simple  decoration. 

King  possessed  literary  talents  and  a  turn  for  poetry.  I  called  on 
liim  one  morning  when  he  lodged  in  a  respectable  house  in  Store- 
street,  Bedford-square,  and  as  he  had  not  left  the  stage  and  his 
benefit  was  approaching,  I  advised  him  to  throw  into  rhyme  a  story 
which  I  had  heard  him  tell  in  prose,  as  it  would  be  something  novel 
on  the  occasion.  He  complied  with  my  advice,  and  soon  after  read 
to  me  his  versification,  in  which  he  had  retained  all  the  humorous 
points  of  the  story,  and  the  whole  was  written  with  great  spirit.  He 
recited  it  on  the  stage  with  good  effect. 

There  are  many  persons  who  hold  peetry  in  contempt,  and  some 
-even  in  horror;  but  if  King  had  devoted  himself  as  much  to  the  Muse  as 
he  did  to  the  gaming-table,  he  might  have  added  lustre  to  his  character, 
have  profited  by  his  literary  effusions,  have  ended  his  life  in  affluence, 
and  his  faithful  and  affectionate  wife  would  have  inherited  the  com- 
fort of  an  elegant  independence,  in  some  degree  to  console  her  for 
the  loss  of  her  husband. 

I  had  some  opportunities  of  rendering  him  literary  service,  which 
always  afforded  me  pleasure,  and  which  he  acknowledged  with  much 
.more  gratitude  than  that  service  could  possibly  have  deserved.  His 


TOM  KING — WILLIAM  LEWIS. 


259 


Tom  in  "  The  Conscious  Lovers,"  was  excellent,  so  was  bis  Trap- 
panti  and  Lissardo.  Lissardo  was  the  last  character  I  saw  him 
perform.  While  he  stood,  he  acted  with  his  former  spirit  and  humour ; 
but  when  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  Don  Felix  held  the  sword  at 
his  breast,  he  was  unable  to  get  up,  and  the  master  was  obliged  to 
help  the  servant  to  regain  his  feet. 

These  characters,  and  others  of  a  similar  description,  were  exactly 
suited  to  his  talents  ;  but  in  the  real  fine  gentleman  there  was  a  kind 
of  briskness  in  his  manner  and  a  sort  of  subtle  look  in  his  features, 
by  no  means  consistent  with  high-bred  deportment.  In  this  respect 
he  was  greatly  eclipsed  by  his  powerful  competitor  Woodward,  who 
could  play  the  high-bred  gentleman  or  fop,  and  was  equally  excellent 
m  all  the  other  characters  in  which  King  was  chiefly  successful. 
Poor  King  !  I  wrote  an  occasional  address  on  his  death,  which  I  had 
the  pleasure  to  hear  was  very  gratifying  to  his  widow. 

I  first  saw  Woodward  in  the  part  of  the  Copper  Captain,  and  it  is 
not  possible  for  me  to  describe  the  nature,  truth,  and  perseverance 
with  which  he  gave  the  laugh  introduced  into  the  character ;  but  I 
recollect  well  that  it  spread  the  contagion  of  laughter  over  the  whole 
audience.  I  afterward  saw  King  several  times  in  the  same  character 
and  it  is  but  justice  to  his  memory  to  say,  that  his  laugh,  though  quite 
different  from  that  of  Woodward,  was  not  less  natural,  and  hardly 
less  effective.  Yet  after  all  there  is  no  adequate  reason  for  such  a 
laugh ;  for  though  the  captain  might  be  glad  that  Estifania  had  dis- 
posed of  his  baubles,  a  smile  would  have  been  sufficient,  particularly 
as  it  only  served  to.  convince  him  that  his  wife  was  a  cheat,  as  well 
as  otherwise  a  frail  woman.  It  reminds  me  of  what  Churchill  says 
of  love  in  Falstaff : — 

When  Falstaff  stands  detected  in  a  lie, 
"Why  without  reason  rolls  love's  glassy  eye  ? 
Why,  there's  no  cause,  at  least  no  cause  we  know, — 
It  was  the  fashion  twenty  years  ago. 

With  equal  justice  the  laugh  may  be  condemned,  but  it  is  so  rooted 
to  the  stage  by  tradition,  that  no  actor  must  now  assume  the  part  of 
the  Copper  Captain  who  is  not  provided  with  a  good  contagious 
laugh,  however  ably  he  may  otherwise  support  the  whole  of  the 
character. 

Mr.  William  Lewis.  I  saw  this  gentleman  the  first  night  of 
his  appearance  on  the  London  stage,  and  his  performance  of  Belcour, 
in  "The  West  Indian,"  was  so  spirited  and  characteristic,  that  he 
was  soon  distinguished  by  the  title  of  Belcour  Lewis.  His  figure 
was  light  and  his  manner  easy.  He  was  a  fit  successor  to  Wood- 
ward, whose  characters  he  in  general  inherited.  He  also  appeared 
with  success  in  tragic  parts,  and  I  read  a  criticism  on  his  acting  in 
Hannah  More's  tragedy  of  "  Percy,"  actually  written  by  Mr.  Garrick 
by  desire  of  his  friend  Bate  Dudley,  afterward  Sir  Henry.  This 
criticism  was  highly  favourable. 


260 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Lewis,  with  whom  I  had  long  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted^ 
in  a  conversation  which  I  once  had  with  him,  declared  that  he 
prided  himself  on  having  clearly  distinguished  his  mode  of  acting 
parts  in  the  old  comedies,  such  as  Archer,  Ranger,  &c,  and  the 
wild  characters  in  modern  plays,  such  as  those  introduced  by 
O'Keeffe,  and  followed  in  the  comedies  of  Reynolds  and  Morton, — 
characters  that  show  a  lively  invention  in  all  of  those  authors,  but 
are  very  different  from  those  of  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  Vanbrugh, 
whose  characters,  though  highly  coloured,  were  yet  drawn  from  life. 
Still,  however,  from  observation  of  Mr.  Lewis's  acting,  I  cannot  but 
think  that,  whatever  his  merit  might  be  in  what  may  be  styled  the 
legitimate  characters  of  the  elder  dramatists,  he  was  chiefly  successful 
in  the  wild  sketches  of  the  writers  of  a  later  date.  His  Mercutio 
was  excellent,  and  I  have  heard  it  warmly  praised  by  the  late  Mr. 
John  Kemble,  who  was  always  liberal  where  praise  was  justly  due,, 
but  not  otherwise. 

Mr.  Lewis,  like  King,  abounded  in  anecdotes,  which  he  related 
\vithout  hesitation,  and  with  great  humour,  particularly  such  as 
involved  Irish  humour  and  manners.  My  late  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  an 
Irishman,  told  me  that  nothing  could  be  more  exact  than  Mr.  Lewis's 
representation  of  the  bucks  and  bloods  of  Dublin,  who  were  of  a 
gayer  yet  more  determined  order  than  those  who  formerly  distin- 
guished themselves  in  London,  but  were  nearly  extinct  when  I  first 
began  to  regard  the  passing  world,  and  the  magistracy  was  more 
regularly  settled.  We  now,  indeed,  never  hear  of  such  riotous  ad-* 
venturers  and  enemies  of  watchmen,  as  those  who  existed  about  the 
middle,  or  perhaps  earlier  part,  of  the  reign  of  George  the  Third. 

Mr.  Lewis,  though  so  active  and  spirited  in  the  representation  of 
the  eccentric  parts  of  modern  comedy,  was  polite  in  his  manners, 
and  peaceable  in  his  disposition,  but  ready  to  support  his  character 
with  the  most  determined  courage,  if  occasion  required,  of  which 
instances  occurred  which  it  is  not  necessary  to  mention.  He  was 
social,  but  not  too  convivial,  or  inclined  to  dissipation,  as,  indeed, 
was  fully  evinced  by  the  large  fortune  which  he  bequeathed  to  his 
family.  He  was  a  kind  husband  and  father,  and  possessed  a  very- 
intelligent  and  amiable  wife,  whose  memory,  as  well  as  that  of  her 
husband,  I  hold  in  sincere  regard.  He  was  not  so  zealous  an  ad- 
mirer of  Garrick  as  I  expected  from  his  general  taste  and  judgment ; 
but  the  Irish  in  general  were  partial  to  their  countrymen,  Barry  and 
Mossop. 

Mr.  Lewis,  indeed,  was  a  native  of  Wales,  but  was  taken  so  early 
to  Dublin  by  his  mother,  who  had  married  a  second  husband,  that  he 
naturally  imbibed  all  the  native  peculiarities  of  the  Irish  taste.  He 
made  it  a  point,  however,  to  become  acquainted  with  the  great  British 
"  Roscius,"  and  told  me  that  he  found  Mr.  Garrick  kind,  attentive, 
and  confidential. 

Mr.  Lewis  observed  that  he  had  seen  the  mechanical  parts  of  act- 
ing, such  as  pushing  the  chair  in  Don  Felix,  in  order  to  be  reconciled 


WILLIAM  LEWIS — BIBB  THE  ENGRAVER.  261 

to  Violante,  Archer  combing  the  wig;,  and  actions  of  a  similar  de- 
scription in  other  comic  plays,  executed  with  more  address  than  by 
Garrick ;  but  he  candidly  acknowledged  that  he  ascribed  the  inven- 
tion and  introduction  of  them  wholly  to  him,  and  added  that  Garrick's 
tragedy  was  irresistible,  though  he  did  not  think  altogether  superior 
to  what  he  had  witnessed  in  Barry  and  Mossop. 

1  have  often  dined  in  company  with  Mr.  Lewis,  at  the  hospitable 
table  of  the  late  Mr.  Harris,  the  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre  ;  and  his  gay  and  spirited  anecdotes  rendered  him  an  admir- 
able companion,  He  was,  therefore,  essentially  different  in  private 
life  from  his  great  predecessor  Woodward,  who,  though  so  brisk  and 
animated  on  the  stage,  was  always  silent  and  reserved,  if  not  satur- 
nine, in  company.  One  of  Mr.  Lewis's  sons  reached  the  rank  of 
colonel  in  the  service  of  the  Honourable  East  India  Company; 
another  went  upon  the  stage  ;  and  the  youngest  is  at  present  the 
respectable  proprietor  and  manager  of  the  Liverpool  theatre.  Mr. 
Lewis  had  also  three  amiable  daughters,  one  of  whom  he  had  the 
misfortune  to  lose  during  his  life.  His  widow  survived  him  some 
years,  and  died  sincerely  regretted  by  all  who  were  acquainted  with 
her.  The  two  remaining  daughters  live  under  the  affectionate  pro- 
tection of  their  brother  at  Liverpool. 

There  are  several  portraits  of  Mr.  Lewis,  but  the  best  is  a  whole- 
length,  the  size  of  life,  in  the  character  of  the  Marquis,  in  the  farce 
of  "  The  Midnight  Hour,"  painted  by  Mr.  Shee,  the  royal  academi- 
cian, now  Sir  Arthur  Shee,  and  president  of  the  academy,  which  is 
not  only  an  admirable  characteristic  likeness,  but  a  work  of  great 
professional  excellence. 

One  of  the  last  original  characters  which  Lewis  performed  was 
Jeremy  Diddier,  in  the  humorous  farce  of  "Raising  the  Wind." 
The  farce  was  brought  forward  on  a  Saturday  night,  and  on  that 
very  night  died  the  person  who  was  justly  considered  the  hero  of  the 
piece  :  this  was  no  other  than  Bibb,  a  well-known  character  at  that 
time,  who  accompanied  Shuter  in  his  expedition  to  Paris  to  win  a 
wager.  Though  the  person  in  question  was  not  a  theatrical  per- 
former, yet  he  was  so  much  connected  with  theatrical  performers, 
and  acted  so  singular  a  part  in  the  drama  of  life,  that  I  may  not  im- 
properly introduce  him  on  the  present  occasion.  He  was  the  son  of 
a  respectable  sword-cutler  in  Great  Newport-street.  The  father 
was  a  grave  and  prudent  man,  who  gave  his  son  a  good  education., 
and  afterward  articled  him  to  an  engraver.  Bibb  practised  the  art 
some  years,  and  1  remember  a  print  which  he  engraved,  representing 
the  interior  of  the  Pantheon,  in  Oxford-street. 

Bibb's  print  was  not  a  work  of  high  professional  skill,  but,  from 
the  number  of  the  figures,  and  the  large  size  of  the  plate,  displayed 
more  industry  than  could  have  been  expected  from  a  character  that 
was  afterward  marked  by  idleness  and  dissipation.  I  knew  him  very 
early  in  life,  and  occasionally  saw  him  until  near  his  death.  He  was 
much  inclined  to  gaming,  and  took  me  once  to  a  hazard-table  in 

M3 


262 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Gerrard-street,  Soho,  where  I  saw  Dr.  Luzato,  an  Italian  physician, 
who  visited  my  father,  and  was  a  very  agreeable  and  intelligent  man. 
Baddeley,  the  actor,  was  also  there.  A  dispute  arose  between  Bad- 
deley  and  the  doctor,  which  was  likely  to  terminate  seriously,  but 
the  rest  of  the  assembly  interposed,  lest  the  character  of  the  house 
should  be  called  in  question,  and  their  nocturnal  orgies  suppressed. 
The  house  went  under  the  name  of  the  Royal  Larder,  which  was 
merely  a  cover  to  conceal  its  real  purpose,  that  of  a  place  for  the 
meeting  of  gamesters. 

I  was  very  young  at  the  time,  and  being  ignorant  of  the  game,  I 
had  not  courage  to  engage  at  the  hazard-table.  It  was  a  meeting  of 
a  very  inferior  kind,  for  a  shilling  was  admitted  as  a  stake.  I  had  a 
-very  few  shillings  in  my  pocket,  which  Bibb  borrowed  of  me  as  the 
box  came  round  to  him,  and  lost  every  time.  The  house  was  kept 
by  a  man  named  Nelson,  who  afterward  was  landlord  of  the  George 
Inn,  opposite  to  Wychc-street,  in  Drury-lane.  I  shall  have  occasion 
to  mention  this  man  again. 

How  Bibb  supported  himself,  having  relinquished  engraving,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  conceive,  if  he  had  not  levied  taxes  upon  all 
whom  he  knew,  insomuch  that  besides  his  title  of  Count,  he  acquired 
that  of  "  Half-crown  Bibb,"  by  which  appellation  he  was  generally 
distinguished ;  and  according  to  a  rough,  and,  perhaps,  fanciful 
estimate,  he  had  borrowed  at  least  2000Z.  in  half-crowns, 

I  remember  to  have  met  him  on  the  day  when  the  death  of  Dr. 
Johnson  was  announced  in  the  newspapers;  and  expressing  my  regret 
at  the  loss  of  so  great,  a  man,  Bibb  interrupted  me,  and  spoke  of  him 
as  a  man  of  no  genius,  whose  mind  contained  nothing  but  the  lumber 
of  learning.  I  was  modestly  beginning  a  panegyric  upon  the  doctor, 
when  he  again  interrupted  me  with,  "  Oh  !  never  mind  that  old 
blockhead.  Have  you  such  a  thing  as  ninepence  about  you  ?" 
Luckily  for  him  I  had  a  little  more. 

There  was  something  so  whimsical  in  this  incident,  that  I  men- 
tioned it  to  some  friends,  and  that  and  others  of  the  same  kind 
doubtless  induced  Mr.  Kenny  to  make  him  the  hero  of  his  diverting 
farce,  called  "  Raising  the  Wind,"  already  mentioned.  Another 
circumstance  of  a  similar  nature  was  told  me  by  Mr.  Morton,  whose 
dramatic  works  are  deservedly  popular.  He  told  me  that  Bibb  met 
him  one  day  after  the  successful  performance  of  one  of  his  plays, 
and,  concluding  that  a  prosperous  author  must  have  plenty  of  cash, 
commenced  his  solicitation  accordingly,  and  ventured  to  ask  him  for 
the  loan  of  a  whole  crown.  Morton  assured  him  that  he  had  no  more 
silver  than  three  shillings  and  sixpence.  Bibb  readilyaccepted  them, 
of  course,  but  said  on  parting,  "  Remember  I  intended  to  borrow  a 
crown,  so  you  owe  me  eightecn-pence."  This  stroke  of  humour 
induced  Morton  to  regret  that  Bibb  had  left  him  his  debtor. 

Bibb,  in  his  latter  days,  devised  a  good  scheme  to  raise  the  sup- 
plies. He  hired  a  large  room  for  the  reception  of  company  once  a 
week,  which  he  paid  for  only  for  the  day.    He  then,  with  the  con- 


BIBB  THE  ENGRAVER. 


sent  of  his  friends,  provided  a  handsome  dinner,  for  which  the  guests 
paid  their  due  proportion.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  many 
extraordinary  characters  assembled  on  these  occasions.  He  told 
me  his  plan,  and  requested  I  would  be  one  of  the  party.  I  promised 
I  would  attend,  and  regret  that  I  was  prevented,  as  so  motley  an 
assemblage  must  have  afforded  abundant  amusement. 

Bibb's  father,  knowing  the  disposition  of  his  son,  left  him  an 
annuity,  which  was  to  be  paid  at  the  rate  of  two  guineas  a  week, 
and  which  never  was  to  be  advanced  beyond  that  sum.  This  was, 
however,  probably  dissipated  the  next  day,  and,  when  expended,  he 
used  to  apply  to  his  sister,  a  very  amiable  young  lady,  who  was  mar- 
ried to  a  respectable  merchant  Having  been  tired  by  frequent 
applications,  the  husband  would  not  let  him  enter  the  door.  Bibb 
then  seated  himself  on  the  steps,  and  passengers  seeing  a  man  de- 
cently dressed  in  that  situation,  naturally  stopped,  and  at  length  a 
crowd  was  collected.  The  gentleman,  then  desirous  of  getting  rid 
of  a  crowd,  and  probably  in  compliance  with  the  desire  of  his  wife, 
found  it  necessary  to  submit  to  her  brother's  requisition. 

When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Bibb,  he  had  the  manners 
of  a  gentleman  with  easy  gayety,  having  recently  returned  from 
travelling,  as  companion  to  a  person  of  fortune.  His  conversation 
was  enlivened  with  humour,  and,  perhaps,  I  might  add  with  wit ;  but 
as  he  gradually  departed  from  genteel  society,  and  associated  chiefly 
with  gamblers,  if  not  sharpers,  his  manners  proportionably  degen- 
erated, and  once  sitting  nearly  opposite  to  him  at  a  public  dinner, 
having  received  a  ticket  from  one  of  my  friends,  I  was  surprised  to 
observe  that  all  Bibb  said  was  accompanied  by  nods,  winks,  and  by 
thrusting  his  tongue  into  his  cheek.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  I  had 
remembered  him  with  a  pleasing  vivacity  and  well-bred  manners. 

Nothing  could  subdue  the  spirit  of  his  character,  for  he  would 
make  a  joke  of  those  necessities  under  which  others  would  repine, 
droop,  and  despair.  His  death  was  fortunate  at  the  period  when  it 
happened,  for  it  not  only  relieved  him  in  old  age  from  probable 
infirmities,  which,  if  they  had  confined  him  at  home,  would  doubtless 
have  deprived  him  of  all  resources  of  an  eleemosynary  nature,  but 
would  have  reduced  him  to  absolute  starvation.  It  was  also,  as  I 
have  before  observed,  fortunate,  for  he  escaped  the  mortification  of 
seeing  his  character  brought  upon  the  stage.  The  public  journals 
of  the  Monday  after  his  death  were  full  of  anecdotes  of  his  extraor- 
dinary life.  1  may  fairly  add,  that  if  he  had  been  a  man  of  fortune, 
with  his  talents,  promptitude,  and  humour,  he  might  have  made  a 
very  respectable  figure  in  life,  and  have  been  a  useful  member  of 
society. 

There  are  doubtless  many  in  this  metropolis  who  lead  a  life  of 
expediency,  like  Bibb,  but  few  who  can  support  their  difficulties  with 
such  fortitude  and  cheerfulness  as  he  did,  or  who,  like  him,  can  sport 
with  fortune,  and  submit  to  live  by  degrading  supplications,  white 
cautiously  avoiding  to  incur  the  severities  of  law. 


264 


RECORDS   OF  MY  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Mr.  Thomas  Davies.  This  gentleman  was  many  years  on  the 
stage,  but  left  it  partly  because  he  never  was  able  to  obtain  much 
theatrical  reputation,  though  chiefly  because  he  was  a  victim  to  the 
seventy  of  Churchill  in  his  "  Rosciad." 

I  once  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Davies  act,  long  after  he  had 
left  the  stage,  when  a  benefit  was  given  to  him  at  Drury-lane  thea- 
tre ;  but  whether  during  the  management  of  Garrick,  I  do  not  recol- 
lect, though  I  believe  it  was  granted  by  him.  The  play  was  "  The 
Way  of  the  World,"  and  Davies  was  announced  in  the  part  of  Fain- 
ail.  There  was  a  dull  gravity  in  his  acting,  and  his  voice  had  a  rum- 
bling tone.  It  was,  therefore,  evident,  that  Churchill  was  hardly  too 
severe  in  his  criticism  ;  but,  as  Davies  was  a  scholar,  a  man  of  taste, 
and  bore  an  honest  character,  the  churlish  poet  ought  to  have  passed 
over  him  entirely,  or  have  been  less  severe.  What  part  Davies  had 
taken  in  politics,  or  what  "plots"  he  had  been  concerned  in,  it  is 
now  impossible  to  know  ;  but  as  Davies  was  a  stanch  whig,  his 
political  principles  could  not  have  been  different  from  those  of  the 
satirist.  Long  after  the  death  of  Churchill,  Davies  published  his  Life 
of  Garrick,  and  at  a  later  period  gave  three  volumes  of  Dramatic 
Miscellanies  to  the  world.  In  the  latter  work  he,  as  often  as  occa- 
sion admitted,  certainly  manifested  his  political  principles,  but  by  no 
means  inconsistent  with  rational  loyalty. 

His  Life  of  Garrick  is  very  creditable  to  his  critical  knowledge^ 
and  he  generally  appreciates  the  powers  of  the  great  actor  with  can- 
dour and  judgment;  though  at  times,  he  certainly,  by  preferring  others 
to  him  in  some  parts,  seems  to  pay  court  to  theatrical  merits  extant 
at  the  time  when  his  work  was  published.  The  same  courtesy  ap- 
pears also  in  his  Dramatic  Miscellanies,  but  in  general  the  work 
evinces  the  taste  of  a  critic,  and  the  learning  of  a  scholar.  It  is 
evident  that  he  must  have  been  a  very  diffusive  reader,  and  he  suc- 
cessfully applies  what  he  has  read  to  the  subject  before  him.  He 
sometimes,  however,  speaks  as  confidently  of  the  merits  of  actors 
who  existed  before  his  time  as  if  he  had  actually  witnessed  their 
performances,  though  it  is  evident  that  he  could  only  judge  from 
written  records,  or  personal  information.  The  anecdotes  which  he 
introduces  are  amusing  and  appropriate,  but  sometimes  his  interpre- 
tation of  difficult  passages  is  too  conjectural,  and  his  emendatory 
criticism  by  no  means  satisfactory.  Yet  he  differs  modestly  from  the 
opinions  of  higher  authorities,  and  is  never  confident  in  maintaining 
his  own.  He  speaks  with  respect  of  Mr.  G.  Steevens  as  a  commen- 
tator, but  seems  to  have  had  a  very  indifferent  opinion  of  his  moral 
character. 


TOM  DAVIES. 


9(55 


The  following  extract  from  Mr.  Davies's  third  volume  presents 
Mr.  Steevens  in  so  unfavourable  a  point  of  view,  that  as  that  gentle- 
man will  always  retain  a  high  reputation  for  his  literary  merits,  I  may 
properly  introduce  it  as  one  among  many  rumours  of  the  same  des- 
cription that  were  in  circulation  during  his  life,  and  were  by  those 
who  knew  him  generally  credited. 

"  Mr.  Steevens,''  says  Davies,  "  in  addition  to  his  large  note  (on 
a  particular  passage  in  Hamlet),  assures  us  that  there  was  more  illib- 
eral private  abuse,  and  peevish  satire,  published  in  the  reigns  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  King  James  the  First,  than  in  any  other  age 
except  the  present.  This  is  not  very  clear  to  me  ;  but  happy  is  the 
man  who  can,  with  a  good  conscience,  affirm  he  never  was  guilty  of 
the  base  practice  of  wounding  the  fair  reputation  of  others,  or  of  dis- 
turbing the  peace  of  families  by  malicious  and  rancorous  slander. 
The  propagation  of  obloquy,  to  gain  wealth  and  preferment,  may 
admit  of  some  exculpation  ;  but  of  all  abuse,  that  which  is  sponta- 
neous and  unprovoked  is  the  most  unaccountable.  What  does  Mr. 
Steevens  think  of  a  gentleman  who,  when  at  his  country-seat,  found 
no  amusement  so  pleasing  as  writing  libels  upon  his  neighbours,  and 
throwing  them  over  the  garden  walls,  with  the  malignant  design  to 
torment  those  who  had  never  offended  him  V* 

The  charge  implied  in  this  question  I  had  often  heard  urged  against 
Mr.  Steevens  long  before  I  read  this  passage  in  Mr.  Davies's  work  ; 
and  in  corroboration  of  it,  I  shall  insert  what  I  heard  from  my  late 
friend  Arthur  Murphy,  whose  dramatic  works  will  always  keep  pos- 
session of  the  stage.  Mr.  Murphy  said  that  he  had  been  some  time 
out  of  town  after  the  successful  exhibition  of  one  of  his  plays,  but  I 
do  not  recollect  which.  On  his  return  to  town  Mr.  Steevens  called 
on  him,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  asked  if  he  had  seen  a 
severe  attack  on  his  play,  in  the  St.  James's  Chronicle.  Murphy 
said  he  had  not.  In  a  day  or  two  after  Mr.  Steevens  called  on  him 
again,  and,  referring  to  the  same  article,  asked  him  if  he  had  not  seen 
it.  Mr.  Murphy  asked  him  how  long  ago  the  article  had  appeared  ; 
Steevens  told  him  about  a  fortnight.  "  Why,  then,"  said  Murphy, 
"  would  you  have  me  search  for  it  in  the  jakes,  where  only  it  now 
can  probably  be  found  lM  There  was  something  of  apparent  disap- 
pointment in  the  manner  of  Steevens,  and  it  struckMr.  Murphy  that 
he  was  probably  the  author.  He,  therefore,  excused  himself  for 
putting  an  end  to  the  interview  then,  pretending  that  he  had  some 
papers  to  examine  ;  and  as  soon  as  Steevens  had  departed,  Mr.  Mur- 
phy set  off  post  to  the  office  of  "  The  St.  James's  Chronicle,''  and 
requested  to  see  the  manuscript  of  the  article  in  question.  The  late 
Mr.  Baldwin  obligingly  complied,  and  Mr.  Murphy  found  that  it  was 
in  the  handwriting  of  Steevens.  Steevens  denied  that  it  was  his 
handwriting,  and  by  mutual  consent  the  matter  was  referred  to  the 
decision  of  Dr.  Johnson.  Mr.  Murphy  submitted  his  proofs  to  the 
doctor,  and  Mr.  Steevens  attempted  a  defence,  but  the  doctor  deemed 


266 


RECORDS  OP  MT  LIFE. 


it  so  unsatisfactory,  that  all  he  said  on  the  occasion  was,  that  Mr. 
Steevens  must  hereafter  "  lead  the  life  of  an  outlaw." 

The  late  Mr.  Kemble  told  me,  upon  the  authority  of  Mr.  Malone, 
that  when  Mr.  Steevens  called,  during  the  doctor's  last  illness,  to  in- 
quire how  he  was,  the  black  servant  went  and  told  the  doctor  that 
Sir.  Steevens  waited  below.  "  Where  is  he  ?"  said  the  doctor.  "  On 
the  outside  of  the  street  door,"  was  the  answer.  "The  best  place 
for  him,"  was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Steevens  was  accused  of  having  treated  his  friend  Mr.  George 
Keate,  a  gentleman  whose  literary  works  are  honourable  to  his  talents, 
in  the  same  manner  with  respect  to  one  of  those  works,  as  he  had 
acted  towards  Mr.  Murphy's  play. 

Mr.  Steevens  was  very  intimate  with  Mr.  Isaac  Reed,  a  gentleman 
whose  memory  must  be  held  in  respect  for  his  moral  character,  as 
well  as  for  his  literary  attainments.  Mr.  Reed  saw  Mr.  Steevens's 
last  edition  of "  Shakspeare"  through  the  press,  and  Mr.  Steevens  was 
accustomed  to  call  at  six  in  the  morning  for  the  proofs,  which  Mr. 
Reed  laid  at  the  door  of  his  chambers  in  Staple  Inn  every  night,  that 
he  might  not  be  disturbed  at  so  early  an  hour.  Mr.  Reed's  venera- 
tion for  Shakspeare,  and  desire  to  oblige  his  friend,  induced  him  to 
be  assiduous  and  punctual. 

The  following  anecdote  is  told  as  a  proof  of  the  gratitude  of 
Steevens.  It  is  said  that  he  employed  a  woman  of  the  town,  of  some 
education  and  talents,  to  place  herself  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Reed's 
chambers,  and  tell  a  pitiable  tale  of  her  distress  and  of  the  misfortunes 
which  she  had  suffered.  When  Mr.  Reed  came  home,  she  acted  her 
part  so  well  that  he  was  strongly  interested,  and,  as  she  said  she  was 
without  a  home,  he  offered  her  money  to  procure  a  bed  where  she 
could  find  one.  In  pursuance  of  the  instructions  which  she  had  re- 
ceived, she  said  she  was  ignorant  of  that  part  of  the  town,  and  too 
Weak  to  go  to  any  other.  Mr.  Reed  had  but  one  bed,  but  rather  than 
expose  the  poor  woman  to  the  necessity  of  wandering  through  the 
streets  at  a  late  hour,  he  actually  resigned  his  bed  to  her,  and  slept  at 
a  neighbouring  coffee-house. 

This  despicable  trick  of  Mr.  Steevens,  by  which  he  intended  to  try 
the  virtue  of  Mr.  Reed,  and  perhaps  afterward  to  disgrace  him  by 
promulgating  the  incident,  which  he  doubtless  hoped  would  have  had 
a  different  termination,  only  proved  the  humanity  of  Mr.  Reed,  and 
the  malignant  character  of  his  pretended  friend. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Davies.  1  became  acquainted  with  him  soon 
after  the  death  of  Dr.  Johnson  ;  and  having  seen  what  I  had  written  in 
a  public  journal  in  honour  of  the  memory  of  the  doctor,  he  treated 
me  with  more  attention  than  I  could  reasonably  have  expected,  con- 
sidering the  difference  of  our  ages,  for  he  was  then  very  much  ad- 
vanced in  life.  There  is  one  passage  in  the  second  volume  of  his 
Miscellanies,  which  I  wish  he  had  omitted,  as  it  is  illiberal  in  itself, 
and  inconsistent  with  his  general  estimation  of  the  character  of  Mr. 
Garrick. 


TOM  DA  VIES. 


267 


It  seems  that  Mr.  Colman  had  suggested  to  Mr.  Garrick  the  pro- 
priety of  reviving  some  of  those  dramatic  works,  in  which  Burbage, 
Taylor,  and  Betterton  had  distinguished  themselves.  "  And  here," 
said  Mr.  Davies,  "  I  doubt  somebody  might  hint,  it  were  to  be  wished 
that  Mr.  Colman  had  not  employed  the  names  of  those  celebrated 
old  comedians  as  a  powerful  charm  to  prevail  on  Garrick  to  grant  his 
request,  who  never  wished  to  hear  the  name  of  any  actor  but  one." 
Mr.  Davies  has  here  unwarily  inserted  a  compliment  to  Mr.  Garrick, 
rather  than  a  sarcasm  on  him  ;  for  it  implies  that  Mr.  Garrick  had 
not  much  confidence  in  the  superiority  of  his  powers,  since  he  feared 
to  be  brought  in  comparison  with  those  who  had  lived  upwards  of  a 
hundred  years  before  him,  and  two  of  them  nearly  twice  that  number. 

In  another  part  of  his  work,  he  observes  that  Garrick  had  no  por- 
traits but  of  himself  in  his  house.  They  were,  perhaps,  presents  from 
the  several  artists.  Garrick  never  professed  to  be  a  collector  of 
pictures,  or  a  connoisseur  in  painting,  though  he  had  many  valuable 
works  of  art,  most  of  which  were  probably  presented  to  him  as  tri- 
butes to  his  extraordinary  talents.  Mr.  Davies,  in  his  account  of 
Congreve,  has  fallen  into  a  mistake,  where  he  says  that  Henrietta 
Duchess  of  Marlborough  was  so  attached  to  him,  that,  after  his  death, 
she  had  a  statue  of  him  which  was  placed  on  her  table  at  dinner,  and 
that  she  addressed  it  as  if  alive.  According  to  the  information  of  Dr. 
Monsey,  who  was  family  physician  to  the  Earl  of  Godolphin,  the  lady 
in  question  was  the  daughter  of  Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  who 
was  married  to  the  Earl  of  Godolphin. 

Mr.  Davies  afforded  a  proof  of  the  difficulty  of  combining  two  pro- 
fessions with  success.  His  literary  talents  and  learning  would  prob- 
ably have  raised  him  into  independence  as  an  author,  or  have  procured 
the  patronage  of  some  distinguished  person  ;  or  if  he  had  contented 
himself  with  being  merely  a  bookseller  and  publisher  of  the  works  of 
others,  he  might  have  acquired  a  large  fortune,  like  many  others  in 
that  business  ;  but,  carrying  on  both  employments,  he  became,  embar- 
rassed, and  I  believe  died  in  a  state  of  insolvency.  His  "very  pretty 
wife,"  as  Churchill  calls  her,  I  saw  when  I  called  on  her  husband. 
She  was  plain  but  neat  in  her  attire,  and  in  face  and  person  exhibited 
the  remains  of  beauty  that  justified  the  poet's  panegyric.  She  had  a 
mef  k,  dejected  look,  probably  resulting  from  the  situation  of  her 
husband,  and  the  recollections  of  better  days.  She  had  been  an 
actress  of  respectable,but  not  distinguished  talents,  and  maintained  an 
unimpeachable  character  through  life.  I  regret  to  add,  that  after  all 
her  moral  and  professional  merits,  I  have  heard  she  ended  her  days 
in  a  workhouse  some  years  after  the  death  of  her  husband. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  state  this  melancholy  fact  without  deeply 
lamenting  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune.  Here  we  behold  an  amiable 
and  accomplished  woman,  who  would  have  been  an  example  and  an 
ornament  to  her  sex  in  any  condition  of  life,  fall  a  victim  to  adversity, 
not  arising  from  any  want  of  prudence,  and  sink  unknown  into  the 
grave ;  on  the  other  hand  we  see  a  female  profligate  enjoy  all  the 


268 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


luxuries  of  life,  and  at  her  death  honoured  with  a  splendid  funeral,, 
and  a  pompous  monument,  bearing  an  inscription  celebrating  qualities 
moral  and  intellectual,  wholly  without  foundation.  Both  of  these 
events  have  happened  within  my  knowledge,  and  probably  within 
that  of  innumerable  ofhers. 

Mr.  John  Palmer.  I  was  very  well  acquainted  with  this  actor, 
who  in  his  proper  sphere  was  one  of  the  best  I  ever  knew.  He 
possessed  a  fine  person,  and  an  expressive  face.  His  voice  was  pow- 
erful and  of  a  good  tone.  Though  comedy  was  his  forte,  he  could 
perform  the  tyrannical  parts  of  tragedy  with  great  effect.  He  was 
calculated  for  all  those  parts  in  which  King  excelled,  such  as  bucks* 
bloods,  impudent  footmen,  &c.  He  particularly  excelled  in  the 
delivery  of  sarcasm  and  irony,  as  was  evident  in  his  Sneer  in  the 
farce  of  "  The  Critic."  I  have  seen  him  perform  both  Brass  and 
Dick  in  "  The  Confederacy,5'  and  he  was  equally  excellent  in  both. 
When  he  performed  a  serious  character,  but  not  of  the  high  tragic 
kind,  such  as  Villeroy  in  the  tragedy  of  M  Isabella,"  he  was  elegant 
and  impressive.  His  Stukely  in  "  The  Gamester"  was  excellent, 
Indeed  I  once  heard  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  who  could  estimate  theatri- 
cal merit  wilh  more  judgment  ?  once  say,  "  When  shall  we  see  such 
a  Villeroy  and  Stukely  again  ?"  He  was  not  an  educated  man,  but 
possessed  a  natural  discernment,  and  seemed  to  be  led  by  instinct  to 
the  characters  most  fit  for  his  talents ;  but  when  he  assumed  the 
higher  parts  of  tragedy,  which  required  intellectual  powers  of  no 
ordinary  description,  he  was  not  successful ;  and  for  the  same  reason 
his  Falstaff  did  not  add  to  his  reputation.  In  convivial  characters  he 
was  justly  admired,  particularly  Sir  Toby  in  "  Twelfth  Night."  As 
a  general  actor  I  have  never  seen  his  superior. 

Though  capable  of  giving  full  effect  to  comic  parts,  he  took  no  part 
in  conversation  ;  yet  he  was  very  attentive  to  what  passed,  and  proved 
by  his  manner  that  he  not  only  understood  fully  the  wit  and  humour 
of  others,  but  enjoyed  them.  I  have  seen  him  in  company  with  the 
present  Mr.  Cobban,  and  could  not  but  observe  the  ingenuity  with 
which  he  varied  his  dumb-show  admiration  of  the  facetious  sallies  of 
that  gentleman's  inexhaustible  vivacity.  He  was  a  well-bred  man, 
but  carried  his  courtesy  to  such  an  excess  as  to  excite  a  suspicion  of 
its  sincerity.  When  he  opened  the  Royalty  theatre,  the  patentee*  of 
Covent  Garden  naturally  appealed  to  the  magistracy  to  suppress  it. 
My  old  and  esteemed  friend  Mr.  Const  was  the  counsel  engaged  by 
the  patentees ;  and  the  performers  at  the  Royalty  theatre  were  all 
taken  into  custody,  but  were  released  at  the  intercession  of  Mr. 
Palmer,  upon  a  promise  that  they  would  appear  at  an  appointed  place 
next  morning  at  twelve  o'clock.  The  magistrates  and  Mr.  Const 
were  punctual.  Mr.  Palmer  attended  soon  after,  but  without  the  rest 
of  the  performers.  Mr.  Const  expressed  his  surprise  that,  after  his 
solemn  promise  of  bringing  the  other  performers,  they  had  not  attended. 
Mr.  Palmer's  answer  was,  "  I  know  your  heart."  meaning  of  course 
that  Mr.  Const  was  too  humane  to  adopt  any  harsh  measures  towards 
them.    Mr.  Const  renewed  his  requisition  for  their  appearance,  but 


JOHN  PALMER — JOHN  KEMBLE. 


269 


received  the  same  compliment  on  his  benevolence.  At  length,  finding 
Mr.  Const  was  firmly  determined  that  they  should  appear,  Mr.  Palmer 
left  the  room,  apparently  to  fetch  them.  The  magistrates,  however, 
remained  an  hour  or  more,  and  then  thinking  it  was  in  vain  to  expect 
Mr.  Palmer  or  the  performers,  they  broke  up  the  meeting,  but  found, 
on  attempting  to  quit  the  room,  that  he  had  locked  the  door  upon 
them.  And  here  I  may  mention  an  extraordinary  change  in  the  con- 
dition of  an  individual. 

When  Mr.  Col  man  the  elder  closed  the  door  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre  upon  his  partners,  Messrs.  Harris  and  Rutherford,  a  journey- 
man carpenter,  named  Hyde,  was  employed  by  those  gentlemen  to 
force  a  passage  into  the  house ;  and  in  the  attempt  to  stop  the  Royalty 
theatre,  the  same  man,  then  Justice  Hyde,  was  the  most  active  magis- 
trate engaged  on  the  occasion,  and  on  a  business  the  reverse  of  his 
former  employment.  I  was  present  with  Mr.  Arthur  Murphy  in  the 
lower  gallery  of  the  Royalty  theatre  on  its  first  opening.  We  could 
not  obtain  any  other  place.  Mr.  Palmer  spoke  an  occasional  address* 
which,  from  the  attention  which  Mr.  Murphy  paid  to  it,  1  told  him  I 
suspected  to  be  his  composition.  He  confessed  it  was,  but  bade  me 
be  cautious,  for  he  was  then  on  friendly  terms  with  the  patentees,  and 
knew  of  course  that  he  was  supporting  an  illegal  measure. 

The  Rev.  William  Jackson  was  to  have  been  a  partner  of  the  Roy- 
alty theatre,  if  it  could  have  obtained  a  legal  toleration  for  perform- 
ances. Jackson  was  a  powerful  writer,  and  supported  the  claims  of 
Mr.  Palmer,  but  the  theatre  never  obtained  a  legal  sanction  in  his  time. 
When  Palmer,  after  this  attempt  to  establish  a  new  theatre,  found 
his  way  back  to  Drury-lane  theatre,  he  appeared  to  be  all  contrition, 
humility,  and  self-reproach  before  Mr.  Sheridan,  just  as  he  acted  the 
part  of  Joseph  Surface  in  "  The  School  for  Scandal ;"  but  in  the  midst 
of  his  professions  of  repentance,  Mr.  Sheridan  stopped  him  with  the 
utmost  good-humour,  and  only  said,  "  Palmer,  you  forget  that  I  wrote 
the  character."  Indeed  Palmer's  general  habit  was  so  much  in  the 
manner  of  Joseph  Surface,  that  it  might  have  tempted  the  author  to 
design  the  character  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Mr.  John  Kemble.  Having  already  said  so  much  of  this  gentle- 
man in  a  former  part  of  the  present  work,  I  have  little  to  add  respect- 
ing him.  His  Hamlet,  which  made  an  unfavourable  impression  on 
me  when  I  saw  him  perform  it  on  the  first  night  of  his  appearance  in 
London,  was  so  much  improved  by  reflection  and  practice,  that  it 
really  presented  a  model  of  theatrical  excellence,  and  probably  never 
will  be  exceeded  in  correct  conception  and  dignified  deportment.  His 
Coriolanus  was  a  masterpiece.    He  often  paid  me  the  compliment  of 


270 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


consulting  me  on  any  passage  of  Shakspeare  that  appeared  doubtful, 
and  would  listen  with  great  attention  to  any  opinion  that  differed  from 
his  own ;  and  I  do  not  recollect  any  occasion  on  which  1  had  not 
reason  to  assent  to  his  explanation  of  the  text.  But  I  never  knew 
any  person  who  was  more  ready  to  attend  to  the  suggestions  of  others. 
He  often  desired  that  I  would  let  him  know  where  I  did  not  approve 
of  his  acting ;  and  his  manner  was  so  open  and  sincere,  that  I  did  not 
scruple  to  give  my  opinion,  even  to  such  a  master  of  his  art,  and  so 
acute  a  critic.  lie  never  spared  pains  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of 
what  he  or  anybody  thought  doubtful. 

I  remember  once,  in  compliance  with  his  request,  I  told  him  I 
thought  that  in  one  passage  of  "  Hamlet,"  Garrick  as  well  as  himself, 
and  all  other  actors,  were  wrong  in  delivering  it.  The  passage  was 
where  Horatio  tells  Hamlet  that  he  came  to  see  his  father's  funeral, 
and  Hamlet  says  it  was  rather  to  see  his  mother's  marriage,  when 
Horatio  observes  "  it  followed  hard  upon."    Hamlet  replies, 

Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio,  the  funeral  baked  meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  table. 

I  observed  that  this  passage  was  always  given  in  anger,  whereas  in 
my  opinion  it  ought  to  be  delivered  with  ironical  praise.  He  imme- 
diately took  down  a  Polyglot  Dictionary,  and  examined  the  derivation 
and  accepted  meaning  of  the  word  thrift  in  all  the  languages,  and 
finding  that  it  was  always  given  in  a  commendatory  sense,  he  thanked 
me,  and  always  after  gave  the  passage  in  the  manner  I  had  suggested. 

I  ventured  to  point  out  other  alterations  in  "  Hamlet"  which  it  might 
appear  vain  in  me  to  mention.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  in  hearing  them 
he  said, "  Now,  Taylor,  I  have  copied  the  part  of  Hamlet  forty  times, 
and  you  have  obliged  me  to  consider  and  copy  it  once  more."  This 
is  a  proof  of  the  labour  and  study  which  he  devoted  to  his  profession. 
It  is  but  justice  to  the  rest  of  his  family,  as  well  as  to  himself,  to  say 
they  were  all  so  perfect  in  their  parts  that  the  prompter  never  was 
appealed  to  in  their  acting. 

Though  Mr.  Kemble  was  of  a  jocular  temper,  and  laughed  as 
heartily  in  company  as  any  person  I  ever  knew,  he  was  certainly  not 
born  to  be  a  votary  of  Thalia  in  characters  of  a  very  lively  and  facetious- 
description.  When  he  assumed  the  part  of  Charles  in  "  The  School 
for  Scandal,"  I  believe  he  did  so  to  please  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  was 
always  alive  and  anxious  respecting  his  own  dramatic  compositions. 

In  the  evening  which  I  passed  with  him  and  Mr.  Richardson  at  the 
Bedford  Coffee-house,  though  he  admitted  Mr.  Garrick  to  be  probably 
the  greatest  actor  that  ever  existed,  yet,  referring  to  the  play  of 
"  Pizarro,"  of  which  he  seemed  to  be  as  proud  as  he  had  reason  to  be 
of  his  original  works,  he  observed  that  he  thought  Garrick  could  not 
have  performed  Rolla  so  well  as  Kemble.  This  opinion  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  sort  of  parental  bigotry,  from  which  even  the  highest 
minds  are  not  exempt. 

Kemble  at  one  period  of  his  life  was  certainly  rather  inclined  to 


JOTIN  KEMBLE — MR.  IITTLL. 


271 


the  bottle,  and  under  its  influence  was  induced  to  be  a  little  frolick- 
some,  as  will  appear  from  some  anecdotes  which  I  have  before  related. 

On  the  first  representation  of  "  The  Mountaineers"  at  the  Hay- 
market  theatre,  I  met  him  in  the  green-room  at  the  end  of  the  play, 
when  he  had  performed  the  part  of  Octavian,  and  he  asked  me  to 
take  a  glass  with  him  at  Mrs.  Stephen  Kemble's,  who  lodged  in  the 
Hay  market,  and  who  was  sister  to  my  first  wife.  I  objected,  ob- 
serving I  was  afraid  he  would  keep  me  up  too  late.  He  said  I  need 
not  be  afraid,  for  that  he  lived  at  Turnham  Green,  to  which  he  must 
go  that  night,  and  as  the  play  succeeded,  and  was  likely  to  have  a 
long  run,  and  he  had  a  fatiguing  part  in  it,  he  required  rest  too  much 
to  keep  late  hours.  I  consented,  but  was  actually  kept  by  him  till 
seven  in  the  morning.  His  carriage  had  been  waiting  at  the  door 
all  the  time,  and  he  then  offered  to  carry  me  home  to  Hatton  Garden ; 
I  however  declined  the  offer. 

He  was  very  desirous  that  I  should  introduce  him  to  my  friend 
William  Gifford,  whom  he  highly  respected,  not  only  for  his  learning 
and  poetical  talents,  but  as  the  shrewdest  and  most  intelligent  of  all 
the  editors  of  dramatic  authors.  I  settled  an  evening  with  Mr.  Gif- 
ford, and  went  with  Mr.  Kemble  at  the  time  appointed.  They  had 
all  the  talk  to  themselves,  and  seemed  to  be  highly  gratified  with  each 
other.  Mr.  Kemble  offered  him  the  free  use  of  his  library,  if  he  thought 
it  would  assist  him  in  his  illustration  of  Ben  Jonson,  whose  works 
Mr.  Gifford  was  then  preparing  for  publication.  Mr.  Gifford  availed 
himself  of  this  offer,  and  all  the  books  he  wanted  were  immediately- 
sent  to  him,  and  were  carefully  returned. 

Mr.  Gifford  afterward  expressed  much  regret  that  a  line  unfavour- 
able to  Mr.  Kemble  had  appeared  in  his  poem  of  "The  Baviad,"  but 
said  that  as  a  new  edition  of  that  poem  was  preparing  for  the  press, 
he  would  take  care  to  expunge  the  offensive  passage.  He  did  so,  yet 
when  I  suggested  to  him  that  it  would  be  proper  to  expunge  another 
passage  in  the  same  poem,  unfavourable  to  my  friend  Mr.  Jerningham, 
he  said  that  the  copy-right  not  being  his  own,  he  could  not  presume 
to  gut  a  work  that  belonged  to  another.  Gifford  kept  up  an  amicable 
intercourse  with  Kemble  so  long  as  the  latter  lived,  and  spoke  of  his 
death  with  sincere  regret. 

Mr.  Hull  the  actor.  With  this  actor  I  was  very  intimate,  and 
held  him  in  great  respect.  He  was  deservedly  esteemed  by  the  whole 
of  the  theatrical  community.  He  was  in  the  medical  profession  be- 
fore he  adopted  that  of  an  actor,  but  in  what  rank  I  never  knew.  He 
was  generally  styled  Doctor  by  the  performers.  As  he  had  a  strong 
lisp,  it  is  strange  he  should  have  ventured  on  the  stage ;  but  he  prob- 
ably depended  on  his  good  sense  and  knowledge.  He  was  an  actor 
of  great  judgment  and  feeling,  and  his  merit  in  Friar  Lawrence  was 
universally  acknowledged  ;  and  in  this  character  his  lisp  was  even  an 
advantage.  He  was  a  man  of  learning,  and  possessed  literary  talents. 
He  wrote  a  tragedy  entitled  "  Fair  Rosamond,"  published  two  volumes 
ot  poems  by  subscription,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  one  of  his 
subscribers.    He  also  published  "  Letters"  to  a  lady  who  had  been 


272 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


his  pupil,  and  whom  he  afterward  married.  This  lady  appeared  upon 
the  stage  in  the  character  of  Paulina  in  "  The  Winter's  Tale."  At 
the  time  I  knew  them,  they  were  advanced  into  the  "  vale  of  years," 
and  were  a  perfect  Darby  and  Joan.  She  often  came  behind  the 
scenes,  to  admire  and  animate  her  husband,  long  after  she  had  left 
the  stage.  It  was  gratifying  to  observe  the  attention  which  they  paid 
to  each  other  at  their  advanced  period  of  life.  This  attention  was 
often  a  subject  of  mirth  to  the  lively  actors,  but  was  always  respected 
by  those  of  a  graver  kind,  because  it  was  evidently  the  effect  of  long 
and  rooted  attachment. 

I  remember  one  night  seeing  them  both  behind  the  scenes,  when 
they  came  merely  from  curiosity,  as  Hull  did  not  act  on  that  occasion. 
He  was  just  going  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff,  when  she  said, "  Try  mine, 
my  dear."  "  I  will,  my  love,"  he  replied,  and  in  his  manner  displayed 
the  endearment  of  a  youthful  lover.  Yet  there  was  nothing  ludicrous 
in  the  gallantry  of  this  aged  pair.  The  actors  of  his  own  rank,  in  his 
time,  were  obviously  so  much  below  him  in  knowledge  and  under- 
standing, that  he  rated  himself  somewhat  high,  but  not  proudly,  in 
comparison  with  them. 

I  never  saw  Mrs.  Hull  act,  nor  know  what  characters  she  per- 
formed besides  Paulina,  but  it  was  said  that  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
end  of  the  performance,  he  came  to  her,  and  said,  "  My  dear,  you 
played  like  an  angel  to-night and  then  turning  a  little  aside,  said  to 
himself,  "  and  for  that  matter,  so  did  I,  too."  On  the  publication 
of  his  poems,  I  wrote  a  few  stanzas  in  praise  of  them,  and  sent  the 
manuscript  to  his  wife,  and  afterward  introduced  them  into  a  news- 
paper. From  respect  to  his  memory,  I  have  since  inserted  them  in 
my  volumes.  Soon  after  the  lady  received  my  verses,  she  called  on 
me  to  express  her  gratitude,  and  told  me  that  she  had  copied  them 
fifteen  times,  to  present  them  to  ladies  who  were  friends  of  her 
husband. 

Mr.  Hull  was  for  a  few  years  the  stage-manager  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre,  and  in  that  capacity,  as  well  as  for  his  good  sense,  was 
always  required  to  address  the  audience  when  any  thing  particular 
had  occurred.  A  ludicrous  circumstance  happened  during  ihe  time 
that  mobs  paraded  the  streets  at  night  when  Admiral  Keppel  had 
been  acquitted  of  the  charges  brought  against  him  by  Sir  Hugh  Pal- 
liser.  Mr.  Hull  lived  in  a  corner  of  Martlett's  Court,  Bow-street, 
at  the  time.  One  of  these  mobs  came  before  his  door  and  called 
for  beer.  He  ordered  his  servant  to  supply  them,  till  a  barrel  which  he 
happened  to  have  in  his  house  was  exhausted ;  and  soon  after  another 
mob  came  with  the  same  demand,  and  did  not  depart  without  doing 
mischief.  A  third  mob  came,  and  clamorously  demanded  the  same 
refreshment.  Mr.  Hull  then  addressed  them,  with  theatrical  for- 
mality, in  the  following  terms  :  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  one  of  my 
barrels  has  been  drunk  out,  and  one  has  been  let  out ;  there  are  no 
more  in  the  house,  and  therefore  we  hope  for  your  usual  indulgence 
on  these  occasions." 


MR.  HULL — GENTLEMAN  SMITH. 


Mr.  Hull  deserves  the  perpetual  gratitude  of  the  theatrical  com- 
munity, as  he  was  the  original  founder  of  that  benevolent  institution, 
■««  The  Theatrical  Fund,"  which  secures  a  provision  for  the  aged  and 
infirm  of  either  sex,  who  are  no  longer  capable  of  appearing  with 
propriety  before  the  public.  That  he  was  really  the  founder  admits 
of  no  dispute  ;  and  therefore,  as  I  have  attended  many  anniversary 
dinners  in  honour  of  the  institution,  I  have  been  astonished  that  no 
tribute  to  his  memory  has  been  ever  offered  on  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Hull  survived  his  wife  some  years.  He  appointed  Mrs. 
Richards,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Richards,  an  eminent  scene-painter  to 
Covent  Garden  theatre,  as  his  executrix  ;  and  at  her  desire,  as  well 
as  from  respect  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Hull,  I  wrote  the  following 
lines  on  his  death. 

EPITAPH 

On  the  late  Thomas  Hull,  Esq.,  founder  of  the  Theatrical  Fund. 

Hull,  long  respected  in  the  scenic  art, 

On  life's  great  stage  sustain'd  a  virtuous  part ; 

And  some  memorial  of  his  zeal  to  show 

For  his  lov'd  art,  and  shelter  age  from  wo, 

He  form'd  that  noble  Fund  which  guards  his  name, 

Embalm'd  by  gratitude — enshrin'd  by  fame. 

This  epitaph  is  inscribed  on  his  tombstone  in  the  Abbey  church- 
yard, Westminster.  He  held  in  the  greatest  esteem  his  friend  Shen- 
stone,  the  poet,  to  whose  memory  he  dedicated  his  tragedy. 

Mr.  Hull  was  the  author  of  several  Oratorios,  founded  on  scrip- 
tural subjects,  which  were  adapted  to  music,  and  performed  at  the 
theatres.  Mrs.  Richards  kindly  presented  to  me  some  observations 
on  "Paradise  Lost,''  which  Mr.  Hull  received  from  Shenstone's 
niece:  they  are  in  the  poet's  handwriting,  and  were  written  in  the 
twenty- first  year  of  his  age,  probably  while  he  was  at  Pembroke 
•  College,  Oxford.  What  is  somewhat  odd,  he  concludes  with  the 
following  words  : 

"  Milton  had  no  ear,  that's  poz." 

This  little  tract  is  now  in  my  possession:  the  handwriting  resembles 
that  of  Pope.  It  is  my  opinion,  and  was  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Wolcot, 
that  if  Shenstone  had  written  nothing  but  "  The  Schoolmistress,5'  he 
would  have  been  entitled  to  a  high  rank  among  the  British  poets. 

Mr.  William  Smith.  This  gentleman,  who  was  generally  dis- 
tinguished by  the  appellation  of  "  Gentleman  Smith,"  1  had  not  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  till  many  years  after  he  had  retired  from  the 
stage.  I  had  been  applied  to  by  Mr.  Hill,  a  gentleman  well  known 
in  the  literary  circles  of  the  metropolis,  who  was  then  the  proprietor 
of  a  respectable  literary  and  theatrical  repository,  entitled  "  The 
Monthly  Mirror,"  now  no  longer  in  existence,  to  procure  a  bio- 
graphical sketch  of  Mr.  Smith.  Mr.  Smith  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  see  perform  in  my  early  days,  and  was  a  warm  admirer  of  his 
acting.  I  had  been  present  when  he  took  leave  of  the  stage,  and 
was  in  a  private  box  at  Drury-lane  theatre  with  Madame  Mara. 


274 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


On  entering  the  stage,  to  deliver  his  farewell  to  the  audience,  he 
was  received  with  a  universal  burst  of  applause,  which  was  repeated,, 
and  continued  for  several  minutes.  His  address  was  brief  but  em- 
phatic, and  delivered  with  a  manly  dignity  and  fervid  expression  of 
gratitude,  that  powerfully  operated  on  the  audience.  At  one  time 
the  applause  was  so  great  that  I  thought  it  was  likely  to  subdue  his 
firmness  ;  but  he  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  resumed  his  speech 
with  all  the  manly  buoyancy  of  his  character. 

The  substance  of  his  address  was  to  say,  that  he  was  fully  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  the  kindness  which  he  had  so  long  experienced  from 
the  public,  and  to  assure  the  audience,  that  though  many  might  be 
more  worthy  of  their  favour,  none  could  exceed  him  in  zeal  in  their 
service.  Madame  Mara  was  deeply  affected  by  this  speech,  and  I 
heartily  sympathized  in  her  emotions. 

Many  years  after  he  retired  from  the  stage,  he  was  induced  to  quit 
his  retreat  at  St.  Edmund's  Bury,  and  to  revisit  London  for  the  pur- 
pose of  performing  Charles,  in  "The  School  for  Scandal,"  for  the 
benefit  of  his  old  friend  King.  I  passed  him  in  the  street  a  day  or 
two  before  the  performance  took  place,  and  could  but  feel  pleasure 
in  seeing  how  little  his  person  had  been  altered  by  time.  There  was 
the  same  easy  and  manly  gait,  though  less  of  that  spirited  and  careless 
buoyancy,  which  had  marked  his  earlier  years.  He  seemed  to  walk 
with  a  kind  of  philosophic  indifference  to  the  things  around  him,  and 
in  so  unaffected  a  manner,  that  he  probably  passed  unnoticed  by 
those  who  did  not  know  his  person,  except  from  his  gentlemanly 
appearance.  There  was  something  in  his  manner,  and  in  the  intel- 
ligence in  his  face,  which  induced  me,  even  on  this  casual  glance,  to 
regret  that  I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  him. 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  miss  his  performance,  and  I  joined 
with  my  friend  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Robinson  in  taking  a  box  suffi- 
cient for  herself,  her  daughter,  one  of  her  female  friends,  and  myself, 
in  the  lower  range  of  boxes  level  with  the  pit.  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  describe  the  tumultuous  reception  which  he  experienced  from  as 
large  an  audience  as  it  was  possible  for  the  theatre  to  contain,  when 
the  curtain  was  withdrawn  and  presented  him  at  the  convivial  table. 
It  was  repeatedly  renewed,  and  he  came  forward  and  bowed  to  the 
audience.  Never,  perhaps,  on  any  occasion,  did  an  individual  in  any 
station  receive  more  hearty  demonstrations  of  public  esteem  and  ap- 
probation. It  is  sufficient  to  add,  that  there  was  no  abatement  of 
his  spirit  and  humour  in  his  performance  of  the  character,  or  of  his 
corporeal  activity. 

In  the  last  scene  of  the  play,  when  Lady  Teazle  happened  to  drop 
her  fan,  there  was  a  race  among  the  male  performers  to  pick  it  up 
and  present  it  to  her,  but  Mr.  Smith  got  the  start  of  them  all,  and 
delivered  it  to  her  with  such  unaffected  ease  and  elegance,  that  the 
audience  were  struck  with  the  incident,  and  strongly  expressed  their 
applause. 

This  fine  display  of  comic  genius,  which  confirmed  the  impressions 


GENTLEMAN  SMITH. 


275 


that  his  acting  made  upon  me  in  my  early  days,  induced  me  to  write 
an  account  of  it  the  same  night  for  a  daily  newspaper  entitled  "  The 
True  Briton,"  of  which  I  was  then  a  proprietor  ;  and  Mr.  Smith  was 
so  well  satisfied  with  it,  that  he  sent  his  thanks  to  the  editor,  de- 
claring that  he  thought  it  one  of  "  the  brightest  eulogiums  he  had 
received  during  his  theatrical  career,"  and  added  a  copy  of  the  verses 
written  by  himself,  and  which  he  had  delivered  at  the  end  of  the  play. 
The  original  letter,  after  his  death,  I  presented  to  his  amiable  widow, 
who  is  still  living,  I  hope,  in  good  health  at  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  with 
her  venerable  sisters'. 

I  took  a  copy  of  this  letter  for  the  gratification  of  my  own  pride, 
but  it  was  unluckily  lost  upon  the  sudden  and  unexpected  removal  of 
my  papers  from  the  Sun  office  in  the  Strand. 

To  resume  the  subject  of  his  biography.  Urged  by  Mr.  Hill,  and 
encouraged  by  Mr.  Powell  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  who  had  been  pat- 
ronized by  Mr.  Smith  and  recommended  by  him  to  that  theatre,  I 
ventured  to  apply  to  Mr.  Smith  for  a  sketch  of  his  public  life,  and 
endeavoured  to  excuse  the  liberty  by  acknowledging  myself  the 
author  of  the  account  of  his  performance  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  King, 
with  which  he  had  declared  himself  to  have  been  so  much  gratified. 
I  received  a  very  kind  answer,  in  which  he  promised  to  give  me  the 
sketch  I  had  requested.  In  a  day  or  two  after  I  received  a  brief 
account  of  his  education,  his  residence  at  Cambridge  university,  and 
the  general  course  of  his  theatrical  life.  The  very  next  day,  how- 
ever, I  received  a  letter  from  him,  earnestly  entreating  me  to  send  his 
manuscript  back  by  return  of  post,  alleging  that  on  reflection  he 
could  not  be  guilty  of  the  vanity  of  supposing  that  any  of  his  profes- 
sional or  private  concerns  could  possibly  be  worthy  of  record,  and 
interesting  to  the  world  at  large.  I  therefore  contented  myself  with 
reading  the  manuscript,  which  was  well  and  modestly  written,  and 
returned  it  by  post  the  same  day,  though  not  without  reluctance,  as 
it  would  really  have  been  a  very  interesting  memoir  of  a  gentleman, 
a  scholar,  and  an  actor,  who  was  long  and  deservedly  a  favourite  with 
the  public. 

But  though  my  application  to  Mr.  Smith  for  some  memorial  of  his 
professional  life  was  unsuccessful,  it  was  productive  of  a  corres- 
pondence which  lasted  some  years  ;  and  I  have  between  twenty  and 
thirty  letters  from  him,  all  written  with  the  spirit  which  animated  his 
public  and  private  character.  They  also  manifest  his  critical  judg- 
ment, candour,  and  taste,  as  well  as  his  classical  attainments.  There 
does  not  appear  the  least  trace  of  envy  towards  any  of  the  actors 
who  were  his  contemporaries,  but  on  the  contrary  a  liberal  tribute 
to  their  professional  merit,  particularly  to  Mr.  Garrick,  of  whom  he 
takes  every  opportunity  of  speaking  with  enthusiasm  ;  though  he  is 
so  candid  in  expressing  his  opinion  of  Barry  as  to  say,  that  in  some 
scenes  he  was  equal  to  Garrick,  and  in  love  scenes  even  superior 
to  him. 


276 


RECORDS  OP  MT  LIFE. 


Mr.  Smith  must  be  considered  as  a  competent  judge,  and  he  was 
also  an  excellent  actor.  In  one  of  his  letters  he  says,  that  Mr.  Gar- 
rick  was  so  perfect  in  every  character  he  represented  as  to  be  wholly 
absorbed  in  the  assumption  of  it. 

In  another  of  his  letters  he  says,  "  Garrick,  with  all  natural  graces 
and  perfections,  must  ever  in  my  now  decaying  judgment  stand  alone 
— 4  The  front  of  Jove  himself.'  Among  the  chief  blessings  of  my  life 
I  ever  held  the  greatest  to  be  that  I  was  bred  at  Eton,  and  born  in 
the  days  of  Garrick."  Such  is  the  opinion  of  an  actor  who  was  a 
kind  of  competitor  of  Garrick  ;  and  such  was  the  opinion  of  all  the 
most  judicious  men  with  whom  I  ever  was  acquainted,  who  were 
deeply  conversant  with  human  nature  and  the  stage. 

Mr.  Smith's  repugnance  to  all  biographical  records,  and  even  to 
all  posthumous  memorials,  increased  with  age  and  his  further  expe- 
rience of  the  vanity  of  life,  for  he  exacted  a  promise  from  his  amiable 
lady  that  nothing  of  the  kind  should  be  published  on  his  decease ; 
and  he  was  buried  with  so  little  pomp  and  ceremony,  that  there  is  no 
stone  or  any  other  indication  to  mark  the  spot  where  his  remains  are 
interred. 

My  late  friend  Jesse  Foot,  in  his  Life  of  Arthur  Murphy,  thus  re- 
lates the  opinion  of  the  latter:  "  Whenever  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Smith's 
merits  as  an  actor,  he  never  failed  to  add,  that  he  was  not  only  a 
gentleman  himself,  but  always  gave  a  gentlemanly  character  to  his 
profession."  Mr.  Smith  was  a  constant  frequenter  of  Newmarket 
course  from  his  early  life,  and  almost  to  the  close  of  his  very  ad- 
vanced age.  He  had  formed  high  connexions  at  college,  and  added 
to  them  considerably  at  Newmarket.  I  never  heard  that  he  engaged 
in  betting,  and  conclude  that  he  went  chiefly  to  enjoy  the  sport,  and 
to  meet  those  noble  friends  whom  he  retained  through  life. 

Among  his  earliest  and  firmest  friends  was  the  late  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  a  gentleman  of  whose  merits  and  accomplishments  it  is 
difficult  for  panegyric  to  exaggerate.  This  excellent  baronet  was 
not  only  a  sound  critic  on  the  fine  arts,  but  also  an  admirable  artist. 
He  was  some  time  a  pupil  of  Wilson,  the  celebrated  landscape  painter, 
and  purchased  many  of  his  best  works,  some  of  which  he  liberally 
presented  to  the  National  Gallery.  Sir  George  retained  his  attach- 
ment to  Mr.  Smith  till  the  close  of  his  life  ;  and  a  few  years  before 
his  death,  engaged  Mr.  Jackson,  the  royal  academician,  to  take  a 
journey  to  Bury  in  order  to  paint  a  portrait  of  him  when  he  was 
turned  of  eighty  years  of  age.  Sir  George  had  a  portrait  of  him 
painted  at  the  age  of  forty.  A  print  from  the  last  portrait  by  Jackson 
was  well  executed,  and  much  valued  by  his  friends.  It  expressed  an 
intelligent  and  discerning  spirit,  that  time  could  not  subdue. 

On  Mr.  Smith's  last  visit  to  the  metropolis,  he  resided  at  the  hotel 
in  King-street,  Covent  Garden.  In  a  day  or  two  after  he  arrived,  he 
sent  a  note  to  me,  telling  me  that,  if  I  could  call  on  him  at  eleven  the 
following  morning,  we  might  chat  for  half  an  hour,  but  not  more,  as 


GENTLEMAN  SMITH. 


277 


he  expected  Sir  George  Beaumont  to  call  and  take  him  in  his  car- 
riage to  see  some  of  his  old  friends,  particularly  Lord  Mulgrave  and 
General  Phipps.  I  was  on  the  point  of  going  to  him  when  he  came 
to  the  Sun  office  on  foot,  for  fear,  as  he  said,  that  some  mistake  had 
arisen  ;  and  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  conversed  with  us,  and  dis- 
played all  his  original  animation.  I  regret  that  I  was  prevented  from 
calling  on  him  at  the  hotel,  for  then  I  should  probably  have  been  in- 
troduced to  Mrs.  Smith,  whom  I  have  never  seen,  as  they  were  too 
much  engaged  in  a  round  of  visits  for  me  to  have  a  chance  of  another 
interview. 

In  the  evening  of  that  day  I  met  him  again  in  the  green-room  of 
Drury-lane  theatre,  still  under  the  zealous  convoy  of  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  who  seemed  to  be  delighted  to  see  the  respect  which  the 
veteran  received  from  the  performers,  who  thronged  round  him,  and 
were  all  emulous  to  testify  their  esteem  and  veneration. 

On  his  return  to  Bury,  he  resumed  his  correspondence  with  me, 
and  continued  it  until  a  very  short  time  before  his  decease  ;  even  his 
very  last  letters  were  characterized  by  his  usual  vivacity  and  vigour. 
His  attachment  to  Newmarket  began  early,  and  he  visited  the  course 
till  his  bodily  strength  was  nearly  exhausted,  and  he  could  go  no 
longer.  It  is  understood  that  in  his  engagements  with  the  London 
manager,  he  always  reserved  a  right  to  visit  Newmarket  at  the  usual 
seasons,  probably  with  a  proportionable  reduction  of  his  salary. 

Sir  George  Beaumont  told  me  that  Mr.  Smith  prided  himself  on 
never  having,  during  the  whole  of  his  theatrical  life,  blacked  his  face 
or  descended  through  a  trap-door.  Of  course  he  never  performed 
Othello,  Oroonoko,  or  Zanga,  though  he  would  doubtless  have  ren- 
dered ample  justice  to  those  characters.    Churchill  says  of  him— 

Smith,  the  genteel,  the  airy  and  the  smart, 
Smith  has  just  gone  to  school  to  say  his  part ; 

from  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  poet  thought  he  chiefly  ex- 
celled in  comedy ;  and  the  epithets  which  the  bard  has  applied  to  him, 
prove  that  in  his  opinion  he  performed  his  comic  parts  with  all  re- 
quisite ease  and  gayety.  Indeed,  to  Ross,  who  was  his  contemporary 
for  a  long  period  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  the  chief  characters  in 
tragedy  were  assigned  ;  and  Ross,  though  so  sprightly  in  private  life, 
was  too  heavy,  and  sometimes  too  sluggish  for  the  comic  muse. 

As  the  reader  may  probably  be  gratified  in  seeing  a  specimen  of 
his  poetical  powers,  I  shall  insert  the  following  lines,  which  I  received 
in  one  of  his  letters,  but  not  till  I  had  repeatedly  requested  something 
of  that  description. 

LINES 

Written  after  passing  the  evening  with  a  friend  in  the  Temple,  1780. 
Last  night  as  with  my  friend  I  sat, 
Methought  I  cared  no  more  for  fate 

Than  fate  might  care  for  me  ; 
In  gayety  and  easy  chat, 
We  smiled  at  this  and  laugh'd  at  that, 
With  hearts  brim-full  of  glee. 

N 


278 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Cheerly  the  minutes  danced  away, 
Till  twilight  oped  the  dawn  of  day, 

Yet  free  from  care's  dull  power  ; 
We  heeded  not  the  watchman's  knock, 
Nor  ask'd  our  spirits  whatrs  o'clock, 

Nor  mark'd  the  vulgar  hour. 

But  Prudence  whisper'd  we  must  part, 
Though  bright  each  eye,  alive  each  heart, 

For  all  was  well  within; 
Yet  parting  check'd  our  present  bliss, 
We  both  shook  hands  and  join'd  in  this, 

That  daylight  proved  a  sin.* 

"  So,"  adds  he  in  his  letter,  "  the  withered  yellow  leaf  is  dropping  from- 
the  bough,  and  leaves  no  trace  behind." 

I  received  from  him  also  a  translation  of  an  ode  of  Horace,  and 
also  of  a  passage  in  Juvenal,  which  fully  evinced  his  taste  and  scholar- 
ship, but  I  thought  an  original  effusion  of  his  pen  would  be  more  ac- 
ceptable. I  sincerely  regret  that  I  did  not  know  him  at  an  early 
period,  as  I  am  convinced  his  manly  spirit  and  philosophic  indifference 
to  the  ordinary  cares  of  life  would  have  corrected  a  despondency  to 
which  I  have  always  been  subject,  though  1  have  constantly  prevented 
it  from  appearing  in  company. 

Before  Smith's  retirement  from  the  stage,  a  number  of  gentlemen^ 
friends  of  his  and  admirers  of  the  drama,  who  formed  what  was  styled 
"  The  Phoenix  Club,"  of  which  he  was  a  member,  presented  to  him 
an  elegant  and  valuable  cup,  which  he  found  at  his  house  on  his  return 
from  the  theatre,  with  the  following  inscription : — 

To  William  Smith,  Esq. 

On  his  retirement  from  the  stage. 
They  knew  him  well,  Horatio. 

Feeling  the  highest  veneration  for  the  memory  of  Garrick,  in  which 
I  am  supported  by  the  testimony  of  Mr.  Const  and  other  friends  who 
had  more  opportunities  of  judging  of  his  merit,  particularly  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  who  was  a  good  actor  himself,  I  shall  cite  a  few  passages 
from  the  letters  of  Mr.  Smith.  "  We  may  safely  rate  Garrick,"  he 
says,  " 

Omnium  Histrionum  facile  princeps, 

and  in  my  humble  opinion  this  was  the  least  part  of  his  excellence, 
As  a  man  I  admired,  loved,  and  honoured  him— his  merits  were  great, 
his  benevolence  and  generosity,  though  by  some  disputed,  were,  to 
my  certain  knowledge,  diffusive  and  abundant.  In  bargains,  perhaps, 
he  was  keen,  but  punctual.    Fiat  justitia  /" 

"  As  to  Garrick,  my  utmost  ambition  as  an  actor  was  to  be  thought 
worthy  to  hold  up  his  train." 

M  Of  Garrick  and  Barry,  where  love  was  the  burthen  or  rather  sup- 


*  Comus. 


GENTLEMAN  SMITH. 


27& 


port  of  the  scene,  Barry  was  at  least  equal  to  Roscius.  Romeo,  Cas- 
talio,  Othello,  Varaves,  and  Jaffier  were  his  own.  In  the  more  com- 
manding passions,  where  the  brain  forced  its  workings  through  the 
magic  powers  of  the  eye,  Mr.  Garrick  was  beyond  comparison  in 
every  thing ;  but  Barry  next  to  him.  Allowing  each  his  merit,  I  have 
thought  for  nearly  seventy  years,  all  that  were  eminent  were  plants 
of  Garrick's  rearing  under  his  own  fostering  hand  in  his  own  garden, 
and  Nature  the  designer.  My  embers  will  a  little  warm  when  I  think 
of  his  departed  spirit." 

"Of  Mr. Garrick,  whom  I  first  saw  and  admired  at  Goodman's  Fields, 
in  the  year  1740,  I  can  never  speak  but  with  idolatry,  and  have  ever 
looked  upon  it  as  one  great  blessing  in  my  life  to  have  lived  in  the  days 
of  Garrick." 

I  could  quote  many  more  par:ages  from  Mr.  Smith's  letters,  in 
which  he  expresses  his  enthusiastic  admiration  of  Garrick,  but  as  they 
have  all  the  same  tenor  and  substance,  it  is  needless  to  add  to  the 
subject. 

As  far  as  I  can  recollect,  Mr.  Smith  was  principally  distinguished 
for  his  Hamlet,  Richard,  and  Macbeth,  in  tragedy;  and  Volpone,. 
Captain  Plume,  and  Archer,  in  comedy.  I  remember  I  was  particu- 
larly struck  with  the  difference  in  the  demeanour  of  Mr.  Smith,  and 
"  Honest  Tom  King,"  when  the  latter,  just  before  the  dropping  of  the 
curtain,  advanced  in  the  sight  of  the  audience,  and  with  both  his  hands 
extended  to  shake  those  of  Smith,  as  if  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness 
in  quitting  his  retreat,  after  a  long  absence,  to  perform  for  the  benefit 
of  an  old  friend,  whose  declining  fortunes  rendered  such  an  exertion 
necessary.  King's  action  on  this  occasion  manifested,  amid  all  the 
warmth  of  gratitude,  the  formality  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  while  that  of 
Smith  exhibited  the  easy  freedom  and  generosity  of  Charles  Surface, 
who  seemed  to  receive  all  such  testimonies  as  an  intrusion  upon  the 
liberal  gayety  of  his  natural  disposition. 

I  have  dwelt  the  longer  upon  the  subject  of  Mr.  Smith,  because  I 
consider  him  as  an  extraordinary  individual.  With  a  character  of  sin- 
gular animation,  and  in  his  early  days,  while  at  Cambridge  university, 
distinguished  by  the  designation  of  the  "  Young  Buck  of  the  College," 
ready  for  any  spirited  enterprise,  he  was  an  attentive  student,  and 
became  an  excellent  scholar.  Though,  at  the  time  he  entered  upon 
the  stage,  he  assumed  a  profession  that  was  by  no  means  held  in  such 
respect  as  it  has  since  acquired,  yet  he  retained  all  his  college  con- 
nexions, which  consisted  of  some  of  the  chief  nobility  of  the  country. 

It  appears  to  me  that  he  could  not  have  been  thrown  into  any  situa- 
tion in  life  in  which  he  would  not  have  acquitted  himself  with  honour^ 
It  never  was  my  good  fortune  to  sit  with  him  at  the  same  table  in 
company,  but  I  can  readily  conceive  that  conversation  must  have 
derived  its  chief  spring  and  stimulus  from  the  buoyancy  of  his  spirit. 
He  was  always  affable  to  his  inferiors  in  the  theatre,  but  at  the  same 
time  so  guarded  in  manner  that  he  was  treated  with  cautious  respect. 

His  many  letters  to  me  display  the  same  animated  character,  and. 
are  generally  seasoned  with  classical  quotations,  which,  till  his  eighty- 

N2 


280 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


ninth  year,  proved  that  his  love  and  taste  for  literature  continued  to 
be  one  of  his  unabated  attachments.  Though  I  never  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  being  personally  introduced  to  Mrs.  Smith,  I  have  nevertheless 
received  several  letters  from  her  since  the  death  of  her  husband,  all 
of  which  are  marked  by  good  sense,  amiable  feeling,  conjugal  affec- 
tion, and  the  regret  naturally  attending  so  melancholy  a  deprivation. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Gibson  and  Ridout.  These  actors  many  years  ago  were  proprie- 
tors of  the  Liverpool  theatre.  They  had  previously  appeared  on  the 
London  stage,  but  without  any  professional  distinction  ;  yet  they  rose 
to  such  a  high  reputation  on  the  Liverpool  boards,  that  they  were 
deemed  in  Liverpool  above  all  competition.  The  good  people  of 
Liverpool  are,  however,  so  much  improved  in  theatrical  taste  and 
judgment,  that  they  are  not  now  likely  to  be  gratified  except  by  first- 
rate  abilities. 

To  prove  the  high  estimation  in  which  Gibson  and  Ridout  were 
held  by  the  better  people  of  Liverpool,  on  some  subject  of  importance 
to  the  commercial  interests  of  that  place,  when  several  of  the  princi- 
pal merchants  were  quitting  the  town  in  order  to  attend  the  House 
of  Commons,  as  they  were  setting  off  for  that  purpose,  even  at  the 
door  of  the  coach,  they  were  entreated  to  go,  as  soon  as  they  reached 
London,  and  see  Garrick  perform,  that  they  might  know  whether  he 
was  equal  to  Gibson  and  Ridout.  The  deputies  from  the  town,  there- 
fore, as  soon  as  their  parliamentary  business  was  settled,  went  to  see 
Garrick.  The  result  of  their  embassy  was,  of  course,  communicated 
to  the  town  before  their  return,  and  they  arrived  at  Liverpool  a  few 
days  after.  Several  of  their  friends  had  waited  their  arrival,  and  as 
soon  as  the  coach-door  was  opened,  the  first  question  addressed  to 
the  travellers  was,  "Well,  is  Garrick  equal  to  Gibson  and  Ridout?" 
The  answer  was,  "  Oh  !  by  no  means  ;  Garrick  would  be  nothing  in 
Liverpool,  compared  with  Gibson  and  Ridout."  Such,  at  that  time, 
was  the  standard  of  theatrical  taste  at  Liverpool,  which  now,  perhaps, 
may  rank  with  any  provincial  town,  if  not  with  the  metropolis  itself, 
in  a  due  estimation  of  theatrical  talents. 

Ridout  had  quitted  the  London  stage  long  before  my  time,  but  of 
Gibson's  person  I  have  a  faint  recollection,  as  he  was  some  years  sta- 
tionary at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  was  generally  styled  King 
Gibson,  because  he  performed  Cymbeline,  and  other  heavy  old  mon- 
archs  and  courtiers.  His  person  was  bulky,  and  there  was  a  ponder- 
ous sort  of  nature  in  his  acting  which  would  by  no  means  suit  the  taste 
of  the  present  times.  He  was  a  prudent  and  good-natured  man,  and  the 
following  anecdote  is  cited  as  a  proof  of  the  kindness  of  his  disposition. 

The  inferior  actors  at  that  period  were  careless  and  dissipated,  and 


KING  GIBSON  MR.  WALKER. 


281 


as  soon  as  the  business  of  the  night  was  over,  they  generally  spent  the 
remainder  of  it  at  low  public-houses,  which  were  much  frequented  in 
consequence  of  their  being  the  resort  of  the  theatrical  fraternity.  A 
young  man,  who  had  recently  been  engaged  at  Covent  Garden  theatre, 
had  come  from  some  provincial  company,  and  was  hardly  known  to 
any  of  the  London  actors,  conducted  himself  with  such  modest  diffi- 
dence that  he  attracted  the  notice  of  the  veteran  Gibson,  who  one  day 
after  rehearsal  took  him  aside,  and  addressed  him  to  the  following 
purpose. :  "  Young  man,  I  have  observed  your  modest  demeanour,  and 
I  see  with  some  satisfaction  that  you  are  not  intimate  with  the  actors ; 
let  me  advise  you,  as  an  old  man  well  acquainted  with  life,  to  avoid 
public-houses.  When  you  are  no  longer  required  at  the  theatre,  go 
home,  study  any  part  that  may  be  assigned  to  you,  take  a  glass  of  small- 
beer  to  refresh  yourself  before  you  go  to  bed,  and  if  it  happens  to  be 
the  king's  birth-day,  or  the  news  of  a  great  victory,  or  any  occasion  of 
national  joy  has  occurred,  put  a  little  nutmeg  and  sugar  in  it." 

I  think  1  was  indebted  for  this  ludicrous  story  to  the  late  Mr.  John 
Kemble.  It  is  by  all  accounts  characteristic  of  the  economical  wisdom 
of  King  Gibson.  Since  the  time  of  the  Liverpool  managers  above 
mentioned,  the  Liverpool  stage  has  been  in  the  hands  of  many  emi- 
nent performers,  the  last  of  whom  was  the  late  excellent  comic  actor 
Mr.  Lewis.  His  son  now  possesses  it,  and  conducts  it  with  such  judg- 
ment and  propriety  as  fully  to  maintain  the  reputation  which  it  had 
acquired  under  the  management  of  his  estimable  father. 

Stephen  Kemble,  who  was  an  accurate  observer  of  human  life, 
and  an  able  delineator  of  character  and  manners,  was  so  intelligent 
and  humorous  a  companion,  that  he  was  received  with  respect  into 
the  best  company  in  the  several  provincial  towns,  which  he  occasionally 
visited  in  the  exercise  of  his  profession.  This  favourable  reception 
is  the  more  honourable  to  his  character  and  conduct,  because  the 
theatrical  tribe  are  held  in  very  little  respect  in  the  provinces.  The 
following  instance,  while  it  is  a  proof  of  the  respect  in  which  he  was 
held,  is  a  proof  also  of  the  indifference,  bordering  on  contempt,  with 
which  country  actors  are  treated. 

He  once  told  me,  that  while  he  was  walking  in  a  town  in  Ireland 
with  the  mayor,  who  honoured  him  with  his  arm,  one  of  the  inferior 
actors  bowed  to  the  magistrate  with  the  most  obsequious  humility,  but 
did  not  attract  any  notice.  The  man  then  ran  before  them,  and  at 
another  convenient  spot  repeated  his  humiliating  obeisance.  Still, 
however,  he  was  passed  without  observation.  Again  he  ran  to  a 
place  where  he  thought  he  was  more  likely  to  draw  attention,  but 
was  equally  unsuccessful.  Anxious  to  testify  his  respect  for  the  maj-or, 
he  tried  again  at  another  convenient  point,  manifesting,  if  possible,  a 
more  obsequious  courtesy.  At  length  the  obduracy  of  the  mayor 
softened,  though  not  subdued  in  pride  ;  he  turned  his  head  to  look  at 
the  persevering  actor,  but  without  even  a  nod  of  recognition,  and 
hastily  uttered,  "  I  see  you,  I  see  you,"  which  the  poor  actor  con- 
sidered as  an  act  of  gracious  condescension. 

Mr.  Walker,  the  author  of  "  The  Pronouncing  Dictionary,"  and 


•282 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


other  useful  and  pitiable  works,  I  knew  and  held  in  great  esteem  for 
his  talents,  attainments,  and  moral  worth.  He  was  a  firm,  I  had  almost 
said  a  bigoted  Roman' Catholic,  but,  as  religion  operated  more  upon 
his  conduct  than  upon  his  opinions,  he  ought  to  be  exempted  from 
such  an  epithet.  He  had  been  an  actor  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life, 
but  not  rising  to  any  distinction,  he  quitted  the  stage,  became  a  teacher 
of  elocution,  in  which  he  was  very  successful,  and,  with  his  various 
publications,  was  enabled  to  live  very  respectably,  and  at  his  death  to 
leave  property  to  the  amount  of  about  5000/.  He  was  a  tall  man, 
and  the  print  prefixed  to  his  dictionary  is  a  strong  likeness. 

I  once  asked  him  why  he  left  the  stage,  and  he  modestly  answered 
that  it  was  because  he  was  conscious  he  could  never  attain  an  eminent 
station.  I  told  him  I  had  heard  he  was  famous  for  his  performance 
of  Downright.  "  Ah  !  sir,"  said  he,  "  the  public  were  too  kind  to  me 
in  that  respect,  but  I  think  time  and  experience  would  enable  me  to 
perform  it  much  better."  He  spoke  of  Garrick  with  warm  admira- 
tion, and  was  stored  with  anecdotes  of  the  old  performers  of  his  time, 
which  he  related  with  precision,  if  not  with  much  humour. 

My  late  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  the  barrister,  assured  me,  that  Walker 
was  not  a  Latin  scholar  ;  but  his  dictionary  is  so  elaborate,  displays 
such  unwearied  research,  and  is  marked  by  such  apparently  learned 
illustrations,  that  I  am  persuaded  he  must  have  been  mistaken.  Mr. 
Walker's  wife  was  an  actress,  highly  respected  for  her  comic  talents, 
and  I  was  informed  by  those  who  knew  her  well,  that  besides  being  a 
very  respectable  woman,  her  intelligence  and  humour  in  private  life 
rendered  her  a  very  instructive  and  agreeable  companion. 

Mr.  Walker  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  by 
whom  I  was  first  introduced  to  him,  and  Mr.  Walker  estimated  no 
less  the  character  of  Mr.  Kemble. 

Quin  the  actor.  He  was  a  remarkable  instance  of  elevation  from 
a  low  station  in  the  London  theatre  to  the  highest  rank  in  his  pro- 
fession, before  the  appearance  of  Garrick.  I  remember  to  have  seen 
his  name  among  the  dramatis  persona  in  Colley  Gibber's  alteration 
of  Shakspeare's  Richard  the  Third,  where  he  was  rated  for  the  part 
of  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.  His  first  start  into  notice  was  when  he 
was  announced  to  attempt  the  part  of  Cato,  on  the  death  of  Booth, 
the  celebrated  representative  of  the  character.  Yet  I  was  assured 
by  Mr.  Ross,  that  Quin  at  last  acquired  such  an  ascendency  over  the 
audience,  that  he  took  great  liberties  with  them  ;  and  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  was  performing  the  part  of  Zanga,  and  a  drunken  man  dis- 
turbed the  pit,  he  came  forward,  and  said,  "  Turn  that  fellow  out,  or 
by  G —  I  won't  go  on."  The  man  was  accordingly  turned  out,  and 
Quin  resumed  his  part. 

Mr.  Donaldson,  who  had  seen  him  perform,  told  me,  that  nothing 
could  be  more  ludicrous  than  when  Quin  and  Mrs.  Pritchard,  two  per- 
sons in  advanced  life,  and  of  very  bulky  forms,  performed  the  charac- 
ters of  Chamont  and  Monimia.    Quin's  declaration, 


Two  unhappy  orphans,  alas  !  we  are, 


QUIN. 


283 


though  nothing  could  be  more  ludicrous,  excited  no  feelings  of  ridicule, 
both  were  such  good  performers,  and  such  favourites  with  the  public. 
Mr.  Donaldson  further  told  me  there  was  so  much  dignity  in  the 
person  of  Quin,  that  if  a  foreigner  had  seen  him  in  the  drawing- 
room  at  court,  he  would  have  taken  him  for  the  prime  minister. 

Quin  was,  at  first,  hostile  to  Garrick,  but  at  length  acknowledged 
his  extraordinary  genius,  which  old  Cibber  never  would.  As  is  well 
known,  he  was  proud  of  making  everybody  in  company  insensibly 
drunk.  On  one  occasion  there  was  a  parson  in  company,  who,  as  he 
had  been  told,  was  more  than  a  match  for  the  hardest  bacchanalian ; 
Quin  was  therefore  ambitious  of  conquering  the  parson.  All  the 
company  were  soon  overcome  with  wine,  and  lay  senseless  on  the 
floor ;  Quin  was  as  senseless  as  the  rest,  for  he  had  fallen  asleep,  but 
still  retained  his  seat.  When  he  waked,  he  looked  with  triumph  or* 
hjs  prostrate  companions,  and  was  anxious  to  find  the  parson  among 
them,  but  in  vain ;  he  there&re  concluded  that  the  poor  man  had 
been  taken  ill  and  carried  to  bed.  "  But,"  said  Quin,  "  it  was  a  fine 
summer  morning,  and,  to  my  extreme  mortification,  I  saw  the  parson, 
through  the  window,  bathing  his  head  before  a  pump,  and  a  shining 
steam  arising  from  it,  like  a  glory  over  the  head  of  an  apostle." 

A  gentleman  of  Bath,  very  little  and  very  dull,  was  extremely  fond 
of  being  with  Quin,  and  once,  when  the  latter  was  going  to  ride  in  a 
•carriage,  begged  to  accompany  him.  "  No,"  said  Quin,  *  you  are  too 
dull."  But  as  the  little  gentleman  was  importunate — "  Well,"  said 
Quin,  "  get  in,  for  if  any  accident  happens  you  will  serve  as  a  linch- 
pin" 

Quin  was  accustomed  to  attend  Epsom  races,  and  the  landlady  of 
one  of  the  inns,  who  held  him  in  the  highest  esteem,  always  took  care 
to  secure  a  bed  for  him.  On  one  occasion,  however,  at  a  very  busy 
season,  she  forgot  him  ;  and  being  unable  to  procure  a  bed  for  him  in 
the  town,  she  asked  if  he  would  be  content  to  share  a  bed  with  a  clergy- 
man who  had  kindly  offered  him  that  accommodation.  "  Well,  dame," 
said  Quin,  "  I'll  lie  in  the  same  bed  with  the  parson,  if  you'll  promise 
that  he  will  not  give  me  the  itch."  Quin  entered  the  bed  first,  and 
observing,  as  the  parson  followed  him,  that  his  shirt  was  dirty,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  What !  parson,  are  you  coming  to  bed  in  your  cassock  V* 

Quin  was  not  fond  of  the  clergy,  whom  he  generally  stigmatized  as 
hypocrites.  Happening  one  day  to  dine  at  the  house  of  a  clergyman 
at  Bath,  where  all  the  rest  of  the  company  were  of  the  same  pro- 
fession, the  master  of  the  house  apologized  for  not  having  the  dinner 
ready  in  due  time,  alleging  that  his  old  turnspit  had  thought  proper  to 
absent  himself,  and  he  had  been  obliged  to  have  persons  that  ill  sup- 
plied his  place.  The  conversation  after  dinner  chiefly  related  to  the 
value  of  certain  livings,  and  as  to  what  the  several  incumbents  paid 
their  curates  ;  till  at  length  Quin  was  tired,  and  signified  that  he  would 
take  his  evening  walk.  As  he  was  leaving  the  passage,  the  old  turn- 
spit returned  from  his  excursion,  hanging  his  head,  and  creeping  in  as 
if  conscious  of  guilt.    Quin,  as  he  passed,  gave  him  a  slight  blow 


284 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


on  the  head,  saying — "  Ah  !  damn  you,  what,  you  must  keep  a  curate 
too  P 

Dining  one  day  at  a  public  ordinary,  where  was  a  sort  of  struggle 
to  get  at  the  dishes,  Quin  said,  "  Gentlemen,  if  ever  I  dine  at  an  ordi- 
nary again,  I  will  have  basket-handled  knives." 

On  a  similar  occasion,  when  one  of  the  company  had  helped 
himself  to  a  very  large  piece  of  bread,  Quin  stretched  out  his  hand 
to  take  hold  of  it.  The  person  to  whom  it  belonged  prevented  him, 
saying,  "  Sir,  that  is  my  bread."  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Quinr 
"  I  took  it  for  the  loaf." 

Another  time,  at  dinner,  a  gentleman  had  taken  upon  his  plate  a 
large  quantity  of  pudding,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Quin,  let  me  recommend 
this  pudding  to  you."  "  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Quin,  looking  at 
the  gentleman's  plate,  and  then  at  the  dish,  "  but  which  is  the  pud- 
ding ?"    This  anecdote  I  heard  from  Mr.  Sheridan. 

Quin,  in  order  to  give  weight  to  particular  passages,  was  apt  to 
pause  too  long.  When  he  once  performed  Horatio  in  ¥  The  Fair 
Penitent,"  and  was  challenged  by  Lothario  to  meet  him  the  following 
morning,  "  A  mile  among  the  rocks,"  Quin  paused  so  long  before  he 
said,  "  I'll  meet  thee  there,"  that  a  man  in  the  gallery  bawled  out, — 
"  Why  don't  you  give  the  gentleman  an  answer,  whether  you  will  or 
no." 

Quin  was  once  annoyed  by  a  very  effeminate  coxcomb  in  a 
coffee-room  at  Bath,  who  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  observing  that 
Quin  frowned  on  him,  he  asked  the  waiter,  in  a  whisper — "  Who  is 
that  man  V    Quin,  who  heard  him,  roared  out  to  the  waiter — "  Who 

is  that  thing  V    "  Sir  Edward  S  's  son"  said  the  waiter.    "  You 

lie,  you  dog,"  said  Quin,  " it  is  his  daughter" 

Theophilus  Gibber  once  vehemently  attacked  Quin  in  a  coffee- 
room,  accusing  him  of  having  said  that  he  knew  him  when  he  had 
not  any  shirts  to  his  back.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  he,  "  you 
have  been  misinformed :"  and  when  Cibber  thought  he  ought  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  denial,  Quin  added  :  "  I  said  I  knew  you  when  you 
had  not  a  shirt  to  your  back." 

Theophilus  Cibber  was  by  no  means  wanting  in  abilities  or  humour. 
He  had  ill-formed  legs,  and  having  projected  one  of  them  in  company,, 
which  was  noticed  with  a  laugh,  he  offered  to  lay  a  wager  that  there 
was  a  worse  in  company  ;  and  it  being  accepted,  he  put  forward  his 
other  leg,  which  was  indeed  more  ill-shaped  than  the  other. 

Quin  was  once  invited  by  Mrs.  Clive  to  stay  a  few  days  with  her 
at  Strawberry  Hill.  Having  walked  round  her  garden,  she  asked 
him  if  he  had  seen  her  pond,  a  small  piece  of  water.  "  Yes,  Kate," 
said  he,  "  I  have  seen  your  basin,  but  did  not  see  a  washball." 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  affectionate  mothers  to  have  their 
children  brought  down  after  dinner,  that  they  may  show  their  talents 
to  the  company.  On  an  occasion  of  this  kind,  when  Quin  had  been 
annoyed  by  the  spouting  of  Master  Jacky  and  the  singing  of  Miss 
Anna  Maria,  he  was  heard  to  grumble  to  himself :  u  Oh,  the  injured 
memory  of  Herod  !" 


QUIN,  MRS.  HALLAM,  MR.  INCE,  AND  MRS.  CLIVE. 


285 


When  determined  to  pay  a  visit  to  Plymouth  for  the  chief  purpose 
of  eating  John-dory,  a  friend  wrote  to  the  landlord  of  the  principal 
inn,  desiring  him  to  show  all  possible  attention  to  Mr.  Quin,  to  procure 
him  the  best  claret,  and  to  promote  his  comfort  by  all  the  means  in 
his  power.  The  landlord,  proud  of  his  guest,  soon  after  Quin's 
arrival,  offered  him  the  use  of  his  horse  to  procure  a  good  appetite. 
Quin  accepted  the  offer ;  but  as  the  horse  was  a  very  hard  trotter, 
when  the  landlord  asked  him  if  he  would  have  him  next  day — "  No, 
landlord,"  said  he,  "  when  I  want  my  bottom  kicked  again,  I  will  hire 
a  porter." 

Mrs.  Hallam,  the  aunt  of  the  late  Mrs.  Mattocks,  was  an  actress  at 
Covent  Garden  theatre  during  the  time  of  Quin.  At  this  period  a 
pantomime  was  then  at  the  height  of  its  popularity,  and  one  of  the 
most  successful  sights  was  Harlequin  jumping  through  a  cask.  Mrs. 
Hallam  was  a  very  large  woman.  As  the  cask  was  in  requisition 
every  night,  it  remained  behind  the  scenes ;  and  Quin  happening  to 
stumble  against  it,  exclaimed :  "  Why  don't  you  take  away  Mrs. 
Hallam's  stays" 

I  had  this  story  from  Mrs.  Mattocks,  who  said  her  aunt  told  her 
that  she  had  been  a  good  actress  in  her  day ;  but,  said  Mrs.  M., 
I  had  no  other  authority.  When  Quin  was  once  delivering  the  speech 
of  Jaques  in  "  As  You  like  It,"  describing  the  seven  ages,  an  effeminate 
man,  who  performed  Amicus,  regardless  of  the  speech,  sat  upon  the 
very  edge  of  the  bench  in  the  banquet  scene,  and  overturned  it,  fall- 
ing himself  on  the  ground.  Quin,  turning  indignantly  on  the  pros- 
trate coxcomb,  exclaimed  :  "  Damn  it,  madam,  can't  you  sit  on  your 
side  saddle."  I  derived  this  anecdote  also  from  Mrs.  Mattocks,  who 
was  a  good  actress  and  a  sprightly  woman. 

The  husband  of  Mrs.  Clive  was  a  barrister,  a  very  learned  and 
intelligent  man,  by  all  accounts,  but  without  practice  in  his  profes- 
sion ;  he  was  therefore  invited  to  become  the  domestic  companion  of 
Mr.  Ince,  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  and  reputed  to  be  the  Templar  in 
the  club  of  the  Spectator.  Mr.  Ince  was  well  known  to  be  a  fre- 
quent contributor  to  that  admirable  periodical  work.  My  old  friend, 
the  Rev.  Richard  Penneck,  of  the  British  Museum,  knew  Mr.  Ince, 
and  told  me  that  he  retained  the  practice,  as  mentioned  in  the  Spec- 
tator, of  visiting  the  play-house  almost  every  evening,  as  long  as  his 
health  and  age  would  admit. 

It  seems  strange  that  Horace  Walpole,  a  man  of  learning  and  ele- 
gant taste,  should  have  been  so  much  attached  to  Mrs.  Clive,  whose 
manners  were  rough  and  vulgar  ;  particularly  as  after  her  death  he 
transferred  his  partiality  to  one  of  the  accomplished  Miss  Berrys,  and 
offered  to  marry  her,  that  he  might  leave  her  a  fortune  and  a  title. 
Mrs.  Clive's  person  exempted  her  from  temptation,  and  her  character 
was  unimpeached;  but  though  she  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
world,  it  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  she  could  be  adequately  sup- 
plied with  conversation  for  such  a  scholar,  and  man  of  taste,  as 
Horace  Walpole.  On  her  death,  he  wrote  a  poetical  epitaph  upon 
her,  in  which  he  said  that  Comedy  died  with  Clive.    In  consequence 


£86 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


of  this  panegyric,  Dr.  Wolcot  wrote  the  following  lines,  which  are 
not  printed  in  his  works. 

Horace,  of  Strawberry  Hill  I  mean,  not  Rome, 
Lo  !  all  thy  geese  are  swans,  I  do  presume  ; 

Truth  and  thy  verses  seem  not  to  agree  : 
Know,  Comedy  is  hearty,  all  alive  ! 
The  comic  Muse  no  more  expired  with  Clive 
Than  dame  Humility  will  die  with  thee. 

My  late  worthy  old  friend,  Mr.  George  Nicol  of  Pall  Mall,  told 
me,  that  while  he  was  on  a  visit  to  Horace  Walpole,  soon  after  Mr. 
Gifford's  Baeviad  was  published,  Walpole.  then  Lord  Orford,  said,  it 
was  "  quite  refreshing  to  find  such  a  work  amid  all  the  sickening 
trash  which  was  pouring  upon  the  world  under  the  name  of  poetry." 


CHAPTER  XL1. 

Mrs.  Siddons.  It  might  well  be  thought  strange,  if,  after  having 
begun  with  noticing  Garrick,  in  my  observations  on  theatrical  per- 
formers, I  should  omit  so  great  an  actress  as  Mrs.  Siddons.  He  was 
certainly  the  greatest  actor,  in  my  opinion,  that  I  have  ever  seen  ; 
and  Mrs.  Siddons  the  greatest  tragic  actress.  But  her  merits  are  so 
well  known,  and  so  widely  and  justly  admired,  that  it  would  be  a  sort 
of  presumption  in  me  to  attempt  to  add  to  the  fame  which  she  has  so 
deservedly  acquired. 

Mrs.  Yates  and  Mrs.  Crawford,  when  the  latter  was  Mrs.  Barry, 
were  the  greatest  female  ornaments  of  the  stage  that  I  had  ever  wit- 
nessed previously  to  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Siddons;  and  I  feel 
disposed  to  say  no  more  than  that  she  possessed  all  the  dignity  of 
the  former  and  all  the  tenderness  of  the  latter.  Mrs.  Barry,  indeed, 
was  also  a  comic  actress  of  no  ordinary  powers,  and  her  perform- 
ance of  Rosalind,  in  "  As  You  like  It,"  was  in  my  humble  estimation 
ene  of  the  most  perfect  personations  ever  exhibited  on  the  stage. 

Mrs.  Siddons  seems  to  me  to  have  been  born  for  tragedy.  I  have 
seen  her  in  Rosalind,  and  though  nothing  could  be  more  correct  than 
her  conception  of  the  character,  or  more  graceful  and  dignified  where 
the  princess  is  to  appear,  yet  in  the  lighter  scenes  of  the  part  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  throw  off  that  pensive  disposition  which  seemed 
to  pervade  her  nature.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  intimate 
with  her  for  many  years,  and  was  not  only  favoured  with  her  friend- 
ship, but.  with  her  epistolary  correspondence  during  her  occasional 
absence  from  town,  and  I  retain  many  of  her  letters,  with  which 
even  her  request  would  not  induce  me  to  part. 

I  think  I  may  venture  to  say,  that  1  studied  her  character  as  atten- 
tively as  she  ever  did  any  character  which  she  represented  with  such 


MRS.  SIDDONS. 


287 


superior  ability  on  the  stage.  Her  mind  is  lofty,  and  her  sentiments  are 
always  dignified  or  tender.  She  would  have  been  capable  of  sus- 
taining with  appropriate  merit  in  real  life  any  of  the  highest  female 
characters  which  she  has  assumed  in  her  profession.  Thus  much  I 
say  upon  ample  observation  and  full  conviction;  and  I  consider  any 
contrary  opinions  that  may  have  prevailed  against  her,  at  any  time, 
as  the  result  of  malice  and  envy  of  her  professional  excellence,  and 
the  reputation  and  prosperity  which  have  attended  it. 

I  shall  now  drop  a  subject  to  which  I  cannot  do  justice,  and  men- 
tion a  circumstance  that  I  hope  she  will  excuse  me  for  relating,  as  it 
shows  the  uncertainty  of  friendship,  and  the  caution  which  is  neces- 
sary in  forming  such  a  connexion.  I  called  on  her  one  morning, 
when  I  found  her  in  the  act  of  burning  some  letters  of  her  own 
which  had  been  returned  to  her  by  the  executor  of  the  gentleman  to 
whom  they  had  been  addressed.  As  I  sat  nearer  to  the  fire,  she 
handed  them  to  me,  as  she  read  them  in  succession,  to  throw  into  it. 
As  I  wTas  going  to  dispose  of  one  in  this  manner,  a  printed  paper  dropped 
out  of  it,  which  she  must  have  overlooked.  I  took  it  up,  and  found 
that  it  consisted  of  some  verses  which  had  appeared  in  "  The  St. 
James's  Chronicle,"  and  which  contained  some  very  severe  strictures 
on  her  character.  The  name  of  the  subject  of  this  satire  wras  not 
printed,  but  appeared  in  manuscript  on  the  top  of  the  lines  in  the 
handwriting  of  her  deceased  correspondent.  As  no  real  friend  of 
Mrs.  Siddons  could  thus  invidiously  point  out  the  object,  it  struck  me, 
as  I  had  heard  the  departed  person  was  a  poet,  that  he  had  attacked 
her  at  one  time  for  the  purpose  of  insidiously  defending  her  at 
another.  She  seemed  to  be  surprised  and  shocked  at  this  discovery, 
and  I  then  ventured  to  ask  her  if  her  departed  friend  had  ever,  like 
Stukely  in  the  play,  endeavoured  to  excite  her  jealousy  against  Mr. 
Siddons.  After  a  short  pause,  she  said  she  remembered  he  had  once 
hinted  to  her  that  Mr.  Siddons  had  a  mistress  at  Chelsea.  The 
mystery  then  seemed  to  be  revealed,  and  the  design  of  the  writer 
developed,  as  Mrs.  Siddons  was  at  that  time  in  the  fulness  of  her 
personal  beauty.  I  left  her  in  a  state  of  consternation,  and  called  on 
her  in  the  evening,  when  I  found  her  father  and  mother,  to  whom 
the  matter  had  been  communicated  ;  but  they  testified  no  surprise,  and 
said  they  had  never  liked  the  man,  and  thought  that  he  had  some 
wicked  purpose  in  view.  This  anecdote  cannot  be  uninteresting, 
as  it  illustrates  human  nature,  and  relates  to  a  distinguished  and. 
meritorious  individual. 

I  must  here  pay  a  short  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Siddons, 
whose  character  I  always  held  in  high  respect.  He  was  a  handsome, 
gentlemanly-looking  man,  with  a  good  understanding  and  pleasing 
and  affable  manners.  He  also  possessed  literary  talents,  and  when 
he  was  the  proprietor  of  Sadler's  Wells  he  wrote  many  humorous 
songs,  which  were  very  popular  at  that  theatre.  Mr.  Siddons  had 
been  overshadowed  by  the  great  talents  of  his  wife  ;  but  if  she  had 
only  adorned  the  domestic  circle  by  her  virtues  and  good  sense,  he 
would  then  have  appeared  fully  upon  an  equality  with  such  a  partner, 


288 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


to  all  who  might  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with 
him.  Many  cheerful  hours  1  have  passed  with  him  and  the  family. 
I  was  for  many  years  in  the  habit  of  dining  with  Mr.  John  Kemble 
on  Christmas-day,  and  on  old  Christmas-day  with  Mr.  Siddons  and 
his  family,  till  his  declining  health  obliged  him  to  retire  to  Bath.  It 
ought  to  be  mentioned  to  the  honour  of  his  conjugal  character,  that 
when  a  false  and  malignant  insinuation  against  Mrs.  Siddons  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  public  prints,  he  publicly  offered  a  thousand 
pounds  for  the  discovery  of  the  anonymous  libeller. 

Mr.  William  Gifford  was  much  attached  to  Mr.  Waldron,  whom  I 
may  properly  introduce  in  this  place,  as  he  was  an  old  friend  of 
mine,  and  a  very  respectable  actor.  Mr.  Waldron  perhaps  was  only 
second  to  Mr.  Isaac  Reed  in  knowledge  of  dramatic  productions  of 
the  earliest  periods.  He  was  a  dramatic  writer  of  real  talents,  and 
the  author  of  several  poems  in  the  style  of  Milton's  "  L' Allegro." 
He  had  collected  many  curious  particulars  respecting  the  history  of 
the  British  drama.  Mr.  Gifford  assured  me  that  he  had  often  derived 
much  information  from  the  stores  collected  by  Mr.  Waldron,  and 
sincerely  regretted  his  death,  not  only  as  a  friend,  but  as  a  man 
abounding  in  valuable  knowledge.  As  Mr.  Waldron  left  two  sons, 
who  are  both  well-educated  men,  it  is  surprising  that  the  manuscripts 
of  their  respectable  father  have  not  been  presented  to  the  world. 

I  met  Mr.  Waldron,  on  the  publication  of  Mr.  Gifford's  edition  of 
"  Ben  Jonson,"  carrying  the  nine  bulky  volumes  home  through  the 
park,  so  delighted  with  having  had  them  presented  to  him  by  Mr. 
Gifford,  as  if  he  thought  they  could  not  be  safe  in  any  hands  but  his 
own.  Mr.  Gifford  presented  them  to  me  at  the  same  time,  but,  how- 
ever proud  I  was  of  the  gift,  I  ventured  to  send  them  home  by  a 
deputy. 

Mr.  Waldron  was  much  respected  also  by  Mr.  Kemble.  He  was 
very  lively  and  facetious  in  company,  and  always  good-natured  and 
well-bred.  Soon  after  the  commencement  of  the  West  India  Docks, 
a  party  was  formed  to  view  the  excavations.  My  late  friend  Ad- 
miral Schank,  then  a  captain,  was  one  of  the  commissioners  of  the 
Transport  Board,  and  he  took  us  in  one  of  the  transport-barges. 

The  late  Mr.  Penneck  of  the  British  Museum,  Mr.  Kemble,  my* 
self,  and  some  friends  of  Captain  Schank,  were  of  the  party.  We 
had  a  plentiful  dinner  on  board  the  barge,  and  passed  some  pleasant 
hours,  after  we  had  farther  gratified  our  curiosity  with  a  peep  at  the 
arsenal  at  Woolwich.  Before  we  left  the  vessel  to  return  home  in 
stages,  Mr.  Kemble  said  to  me,  "  1  should  be  glad  to  invite  Captain 
Schank  to  dine  with  me,  but  I  suppose  nothing  would  induce  him  to 
sleep  out  of  this  vessel  f  and  he  was  surprised  when  I  told  him  that 
the  captain  kept  a  handsome  establishment  in  Leicester-square,  and 
a  carriage. 

Here  I  must  pause  to  pay  a  tribute  of  respect  to  my  old  and 
worthy  friend  Admiral  Schank,  who  was  a  true  British  tar,  of  a 
hospitable  spirit,  and  manly  sincerity.  He  was  married  to  a  very 
amiable  and  intelligent  lady,  a  sister  of  Sir  William  Grant,  late 
Master  of  the  Rolls. 


ADMIRAL  SCHANK — SUETT. 


289 


Admiral  Schank  had  a  high  reputation  in  the  navy,  and  was  the 
inventor  of  a  vessel  named  the  Wolverine.  For  some  years  before 
his  death  he  suffered  by  a  gradual  loss  of  sight,  and  at  last  became 
totally  blind.  He  had  consulted  several  surgeons,  who  told  him  that 
his  disorder  was  a  commencing  cataract,  and  at  length  he  consulted 
me.  I  told  him  with  much  regret  that  his  disorder  was  not  a  cata- 
ract, which  admitted  of  relief,  but  that  I  feared  it  would  prove  a 
gutta-serena.  He  however  went  to  several  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
where  persons  resided  who  were  reputed  to  be  successful  in  treating 
disorders  of  the  eye,  but  in  vain  ;  and  after  many  a  fruitless  journey 
he  said,  "  I  wish  I  had  depended  on  my  friend  Taylor's  opinion  at 
first,  for  I  should  then  have  saved  myself  from  disappointment,  and 
the  expense  of  at  least  three  hundred  pounds." 

Mr.  Kemble,  as  the  manager  of  a  theatre,  conducted  himself  with 
great  kindness  towards  the  performers,  and  never  attempted  to  exert 
any  unfriendly  authority.  He  was  always  unwilling  to  deprive  an 
actor  of  any  part  that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  perform,  or  ta 
oblige  him  to  assume,  or  continue  to  perform,  a  character  that  did 
not  please  him. 

He  was  very  intimate  with  Suett  the  actor,  when  he  first  came  to 
London,  and  they  used  frequently  to  ride  on  horseback  together. 
He  deeply  lamented  the  habit  of  drinking  which  Suett  had  acquired 
by  associating  with  the  lower  performers.  He  said  that  Suett  had 
been  a  man  of  refined  sentiments,  had  an  elegant  taste,  and  would 
have  remained  so  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  unfortunate  habit. 
Suett  was  a  man  of  good  sense,  with  a  kind  and  benevolent  dis- 
position. 

He  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Kemble,  who  had  desired  him 
to  send  his  son  to  him  every  morning,  and  he  would  hear  him  read. 
The  boy  had  neglected  to  go  one  morning,  and  Suett,  who  had  a 
quaint  formality  in  his  manner,  reproached  him  for  having  slighted 
the  instructions  of  so  great  a  man,  and  then  added,  <:  If  you  do  not 
attend  that  great  man,  I  will  most  certainly  withdraw  my  eye  of 
favour  from  you." 

I  attended  the  funeral  of  Miss  Chapman,  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre.  She  was  a  good  actress  and  a  sensible  woman.  Suett  had 
known  her  on  the  York  stage,  and  had  a  great  friendship  for  her.  A 
little  before  the  mournful  cavalcade  set  out  from  her  apartments  in 
James-street,  Covent  Garden,  Suett  came  to  the  house  in  mourning, 
and  begged  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  join  in  paying  the  last 
tribute  of  friendship  to  the  departed  lady.  He  was  admitted  into 
the  same  coach  with  me  and  the  other  mourners,  and  showed  evident 
proofs  of  unaffected  grief  all  the  way  to  the  grave. 

Suett  was  capable  of  performing  characters  of  grave  or  facetious 
humour,  but  his  element  was  broad  farce.  I  once  passed  an  evening 
with  him  and  the  elder  Bannister,  at  the  house  of  my  friend  George 
Colman,  in  Upper  Tichfield-street,  and  saw  him  carefully  home  to 
his  lodgings  in  Martlett's  Court,  Bow-street,  at  five  in  the  morning  : 
a  matter  of  some  difficulty,  as  he  had  sacrificed  too  freely  to  the 


290 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


bottle,  and  the  weather  was  very  bad.  But  I  esteemed  the  man, 
and  was  diverted  with  his  odd  humour  all  the  way. 

He  was  much  respected  by  the  other  performers,  most  of  whom 
attended  his  burial  in  St.  Paul's  church-yard.  He  was  originally  a 
chorister  in  that  cathedral,  and  composed  many  songs,  the  words  of 
which  were  written  by  himself.  Both  music  and  words  were  marked 
by  taste  and  feeling.  After  his  funeral,  the  actors,  who  are  never 
wanting  in  waggery,  pretended  that  they  heard  him  say  in  his  coffin, 
"  My  dragons,  what  are  you  a'ter  ?"  expressions  which  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  using.  He  would  have  been  in  the  prime  of  life,  if  his 
health  had  not  been  injured  by  his  convivial  disposition. 

It  would  be  improper  to  omit  here  an  important  incident  in  the  life 
of  Mr.  Kemble.  After  the  destruction  of  Covent  Garden  theatre  by 
fire,  his  friends  and  the  public  felt  concerned  for  his  loss,  as  he  had 
embarked  the  whole  of  his  property  in  that  concern.  I  was  walking 
in  the  Strand,  when  I  heard  him  call  me  from  his  carriage.  With  a 
tone  of  exultation  he  said,  "  Taylor,  have  you  heard  what  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland  has  done  for  me  ?"  I  answered  in  the  negative. 
"  Why,"  he  said,  "  a  gentleman  waited  on  me  by  desire  of  the  duke, 
to  express  his  grace's  sincere  concern  for  the  melancholy  event  which 
had  occurred,  and  to  signify  that,  if  10.000Z.  would  be  of  use  to 
me  in  the  present  emergency,  his  grace  would  order  that  this  sum 
should  be  advanced  to  me.  I  expressed  my  gratitude  as  well  as  my 
surprise  at  so  generous  an  offer,  but  desired  the  gentleman  to  say 
that  as  it  never  could  be  in  my  power  to  repay  his  grace,  I  felt  myself 
obliged  to  decline  his  noble  offer.  The  gentleman  called  on  me 
again  to  repeat  the  offer,  and  I  then  said  I  must  still  decline  to 
avail  myself  of  his  grace's  kindness  ;  for  that,  so  far  from  being  able 
to  repay  the  principal  of  so  large  a  sum,  I  did  not  think  it  would  ever 
be  in  my  power  to  discharge  even  the  interest.  The  gentleman  took 
this  message  to  his  grace,  but  called  on  me  a  third  time,  to  tell  me 
that  his  grace  made  the  offer  as  an  act  of  friendship,  and  therefore  he 
should  never  require  from  me  either  interest  or  principal." 

Such  was  precisely  the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Kemble  related  this 
magnificent  act  of  the  late  Duke  of  Northumberland  to  me.  I 
waited  on  Mr.  Kemble  on  the  following  Sunday  morning,  and  he 
then  related  the  cause  which  had  operated  so  generously  on  the  mind 
of  the  duke.  He  said  that  Dr.  Raine,  then  master  of  the  Charter- 
house, called  on  him  one  morning,  and  expressed  his  wish  that  he 
would  give  some  lessons  to  a  young  nobleman  on  the  art  of  reading, 
as  it  was  probable  the  person  in  question  would  be  a  member  of 
parliament,  and  Mr.  Kemble  of  course  would  be  liberally  rewarded 
for  his  trouble.  Kemble  told  the  doctor  that  he  had  long  declined 
to  give  instructions  of  that  nature,  considering  them  as  wholly  useless ; 
that  if  the  person  had  good  sense  and  a  good  ear,  he  would  want  no 
instruction ;  and  if  not,  that  instruction  would  be  ineffectual.  The 
doctor  expressed  his  regret  that  Kemble  had  declined  the  task,  ob- 
serving he  came  by  the  desire  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland,  and 
that  Lord  Percy  was  the  intended  pupil.    "Oh!"  said  Kemble,  "if 


JOHN  KEMBLE. 


291 


it  is  his  grace's  desire,  I  was  so  much  indebted  to  him  at  a  very- 
interesting  period  of  my  life,  that  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  under- 
take to  testify  my  respect  and  gratitude."  He  then  readily  consented 
to  receive  Lord  Percy,  and  give  the  best  instructions  in  his  power. 
He  then  related  the  obligation  which  he  was  under  to  the  duke  in  the 
following  manner : — 

"When  I  was  an  actor,"  said  he,  "in  a  theatrical  company  at 
Doncaster,  I  had  written  a  tragedy,  the  hero  of  which  was  Belisarius ; 
and  as  the  duke,  then  Lord  Percy,  was  quartered  there  with  his 
regiment,  the  manager  advised  me  to  wait  upon  his  lordship,  and 
request  him  to  suffer  some  of  his  men  to  attend  the  entrance  of 
Belisarius  into  Rome.  He  immediately  said,  when  I  told  him  the 
purpose  of  my  visit,  that  \  he  would  do  any  thing  to  show  his  respect 
for  so  great  a  hero  as  Belisarius,  and  that  I  should  have  as  many  men 
as  I  wanted  to  do  honour  to  his  triumph/  The  men  accordingly 
attended,  the  hero  appeared  in  military  grandeur,  and  the  play  suc- 
ceeded, raising  me  high  in  the  opinion  of  the  manager  at  a  time  when 
his  good  opinion  was  of  importance  to  me.  Dr.  Raine  told  the  duke 
how  ready  I  was  to  give  instructions  to  Lord  Percy,  when  I  knew 
that  it  was  the  desire  of  his  grace ;  who,  hearing  what  I  had  said, 
signified  that  he  should  not  forget  my  ready  compliance  with  his  wish. 
Lord  Percy  called  on  me,  certainly  not  twelve  times,  for  such  lessons 
as  I  could  give  ;  and  this  is  the  magnificent  return,"  added  he,  "  for 
my  poor  services." 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  add,  that  the  present  duke  seems  to 
partake  of  his  noble  father's  feelings  towards  Mr.  Kemble,  for  he  was 
present  in  the  theatre  on  the  night  when  Mr.  Kemble  finally  took 
leave  of  the  public,  and  I  afterward  saw  his  grace  join  him  in  the 
green-room,  where  a  confidential  conversation  took  place  between 
them  at  a  distance  from  the  company  in  general  who  were  present. 

Most  of  the  principal  performers  of  both  theatres  attended  on  this 
occasion,  to  testify  their  respect  for  Mr.  Kemble,  and  many  of  them 
expressed  a  desire  of  possessing  some  part  of  his  theatre  apparel, 
and  what  are  styled  stage  properties,  as  relics  of  friendship.  He 
gave  his  sword  to  one,  his  cane  to  another,  and  distributed  all  the 
articles  connected  with  the  character  which  he  had  been  performing. 

On  his  last  visit  to  this  country,  he  called  on  me,  and  I  saw  an  evi- 
dent appearance  of  the  decline  of  his  health,  particularly  on  his  going 
down  stairs,  which  he  appeared  to  do  with  difficulty.  His  brother, 
Mr.  Charles  Kemble,  kindly  invited  me  to  dine  with  him,  that  I  might 
see  the  last  of  his  brother,  who  was  on  the  eve  of  returning  to  Lau- 
sanne, and  not  likely  ever  to  revisit  this  country.  Mr.  Kemble  took 
little  part  in  the  general  conversation,  but  seemed  to  be  attentive. 
As  he  had  been  accustomed  to  drink  wine,  his  entire  forbearance  from 
it  probably  injured  his  health,  for  I  remember  dining  with  him  not 
long  before  he  quitted  the  stage,  and  saying,  "  Come,  Johnny,  you 
and  I  have  not  had  a  glass  of  wine  together,"  and  Mrs.  Kemble,  from 
the  opposite  end  of  the  table,  said,  "  I  am  Johnny,  and  I'll  take  a 
glass  with  you,  for  Mr.  Kemble  does  not  drink  wine." 


299 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


A  friend  of  mine,  who  was  going  to  Switzerland,  requested  that  I 
would  give  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  him,  and  I  did  so,  but  on 
the  morning  when  he  was  going  to  present  it,  he  found  that  Mr.  Kem- 
ble  was  no  more.  The  gentleman  sent  a  letter  to  me,  announcing 
the  melancholy  event  of  his  death.  I  communicated  the  contents  of 
the  letter  to  the  public  on  the  day  that  it  reached  me  in  "  The  Sun'v 
evening  paper,  of  which  I  was  then  proprietor,  and  gave  the  original 
letter  to  Mr.  Charles  Kemble. 

I  have  dwelt  upon  the  memory  of  Mr.  Kemble,  because  I  felt  a 
sincere  friendship  for  him,  as  well  as  a  high  respect  for  his  talents,  and 
am  convinced  that  he  had  a  kind  and  benevolent  disposition,  and  was* 
fully  qualified  to  render  himself  conspicuous  in  any  province  ta 
which  he  might  have  devoted  his  abilities.  He  was  held  in  the 
highest  regard  by  his  immediate  relations,  and  by  all  his  friends  who 
knew  how  to  appreciate  his  character. 

Mr.  Charles  Kejible,  who  now  appears  to  so  much  advantage 
on  the  stage,  when  he  was  rather  a  fine  sturdy  lad  than  a  young  man. 
held  an  appointment  in  a  government  office,  but  being  anxious  to  go 
upon  the  stage,  he  consulted  me  on  the  subject.  I  confess  that  though 
he  was  intelligent,  and  well-educated,  there  was  such  a  rustic  plain- 
ness in  his  manner,  that  I  did  not  see  any  promise  of  excellence  in 
him,  and  therefore  advised  him  to  keep  to  his  situation,  which  was  a 
progressive  one,  from  which  I  told  him  that  in  due  time  he  would  be 
able  to  retire  on  a  comfortable  independence.  He  told  me  that  his 
brother  had  expressed  the  same  opinion,  and  had  given  him  the  same 
advice.  Hence  it  appeared  that  Mr.  Kemble  and  myself  were  bad 
prophets,  since  his  brother  Charles  has  displayed  abilities  which 
would  have  done  honour  to  the  stage  at  any  period.  It  may,  however, 
be  said  that  Mr.  Kemble,  perhaps,  saw  his  brother's  talents  with  eyes 
more  discerning  than  mine,  and  only  discouraged  his  theatrical  bent 
from  a  conviction  of  the  difficulty  and  uncertainty  of  the  profession. 

As  Mr.  Charles  Kemble  is  at  present  an  ornament  of  the  stage,  I 
must  speak  of  him  with  reserve,  lest  I  might  be  suspected  of  the 
meanness  of  flattery  ;  but  the  estimation  in  which  he  is  held  by  the 
public  would  fully  justify  a  warm  panegyric  on  his  talents.  He  was 
very  early  in  life  placed  for  education  at  a  college  in  Douay,  from 
which  he  returned  with  a  competent  knowledge  of  the  Latin  and 
French  languages,  and  since  he  has  been  an  established  performer  in 
London,  he  has,  I  understand,  acquired  the  Italian  and  German. 

As  an  actor,  he  is  a  worthy  successor  to  his  brother,  particularly  in 
the  part  of  Hamlet ;  and  to  say  the  least  of  his  performance,  in  a 
just  conception  of  the  author,  in  animation,  variety,  and  energy,  he 
must  satisfy  the  most  rigid  critic.  His  deportment  in  general  is  easy 
and  graceful,  without  affectation,  but  naturally  flowing  from  his  feel- 
ings. His  Romeo  also  is  an  admirable  specimen  of  tragic  skill : 
and  in  most  of  his  performances  in  the  serious  drama,  he  appears  to 
great  advantage.  But  with  all  his  merit  in  tragedy,  he  seems  to  be 
more  in  his  element  in  comic  parts.  His  Charles,  in  "  The  Schooi 
for  Scandal,"  is  a  performance  of  great  spirit  and  humour,  but  per- 


MR.  AND  MRS.  C.  KEMBLE. 


293 


haps  his  Young  Mirable,in  "  The  Inconstant"  is  his  most  perfect  per- 
sonation. His  Archer,  in  the  comedy  of  "  The  Stratagem,"  is  also 
highly  creditable  to  his  comic  powers  ;  and  he  has  shown  the  versa- 
tility of  his  talents  by  his  performance  of  Friar  Tuck  and  FalstaC 
though  so  different  from  his  proper  cast. 

His  talents,  however,  are  not  confined  to  acting,  for  he  has  shown 
literary  powers  in  two  dramatic  pieces  of  the  serious  kind,  one  en- 
titled "  The  Point  of  Honour,"  founded  on  a  French  play  ;  and  the 
other  entitled  "  The  Wanderer,  or  the  Rites  of  Hospitality  ;"  to 
the  last  of  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  contributing  the  prologue. 
Both  of  these  dramas  were  successful,  and  the  former  is  still  occasion- 
ally brought  forward. 

It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  having  noticed  the  husband  I  did 
not  mention  the  wife. 

Mrs.  Charles  Kemble  had  various  and  strong  pretensions  to 
public  favour  while  she  remained  upon  the  stage.  She  was  an  ex- 
cellent comic  actress,  and  a  very  graceful  dancer.  She  is  besides  a 
scientific  musician,  and  altogether  a  well-educated  lady.  Her  acting 
was  always  marked  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  character 
which  she  assumed,  and  supported  with  truth,  spirit,  and  energy. 
Her  Lucy,  in  "  The  Beggar's  Opera,"  was  as  perfect  a  performance 
as  ever  perhaps  appeared  on  the  stage.  Her  knowledge  of  the 
French  language  and  French  manners  enabled  her  not  only  to  per- 
form French  characters  writh  powerful  effect,  but  even  to  repre- 
sent them  in  old  age  while  she  was  in  the  meridian  of  life,  which  in- 
deed, she  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  now  passed.  She  left  the  stage 
without  taking  a  formal  leave  of  it,  contrary  to  the  practice  of  prin- 
cipal performers. 

The  loss  of  so  deservedly  popular  an  actress  must  be  a  subject  of 
regret  to  the  public,  for  she  was  too  great  a  favourite  ever  to  incur 
an  unfavourable  reception,  except  during  what  was  called  the  O.  P. 
riot,  which  was  disgraceful  to  the  public  at  large,  since  they  suffered 
a  handful  of  obscure  ruffians  to  interrupt  the  performances,  and  in- 
jure the  theatre  for'  several  weeks,  by  opposing  those  regulations 
which  were  calculated  to  secure  a  permanent  income  to  the  pro- 
prietors, though  far  below  the  general  measure  of  their  expenses, — 
to  bring  persons  of  high  rank  to  the  theatre,  to  render  dramatic  novel- 
ties more  worthy  general  patronage,  and  to  refine  the  public  taste. 
Yet,  though  the  proprietors  submitted  their  affairs  to  the  ablest  calcu- 
lators, whose  character  and  judgment  were  unimpeachable,  these 
rioters  were  so  resolute  and  so  persevering,  that  they  finally  effected 
their  purpose. 

The  insolence  which  the  performers  suffered  during  this  shameless 
storm,  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kemble  among  the  rest,  might  probably 
operate  as  one  of  the  causes  which  induced  her  to  retire  from  the 
stage  at  a  time  when  she  was  one  of  its  chief  comic  ornaments. 

Mrs.  Charles  Kemble,  like  her  husband,  has  displayed  her  literary 
powers  in  an  afterpiece,  entitled  "  Personation,"  in  which  she  appeared 
in  the  disguise  of  an  aged  French-woman,  with  admirable  humour, 


294 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


and  in  a  successful  comedy,  entitled  "  Smiles  and  Tears,"  to  which  I 
had  again  the  pleasure  of  contributing  a  prologue. 

Dodd  was  an  actor  whom  I  knew.  He  was  an  admirable  repre- 
sentative of  the  fops  in  the  old  comedies,  and  also  of  old  men.  His 
Sir  Andrew,  in  "  Twelfth  Night,"  was  a  performance  of  such  charac- 
teristic merit  as  to  demand  the  suffrages  of  critical  judgment.  He 
was  also  a  pleasing,  though  not  a  professed  singer.  His  Acres,  in 
"  The  Rivals,"  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite,  in  "  The  School  for  Scandal," 
and  Dangle,  in  "  The  Critic,"  were  all  good  specimens  of  comic 
humour.  He  lived  with  an  actress,  who  came  forward  in  youth  with 
talents  and  accomplishments,  but  whose  profligate  conduct  at  last 
wholly  deprived  her  of  public  favour.  During  her  connexion  with 
Dodd,  she  ensnared  his  son,  a  mere  youth,  into  a  similar  intercourse, 
and  while  this  detestable  conduct  was  generally  rumoured,  she  had 
the  confidence  to  appear  upon  the  stage  again,  and  received  strong 
marks  6f  public  disapprobation.  She  had  the  hardihood  to  come 
forward,  and  say  that  the  audience  had  a  right  to  censure  her  per- 
formance, but  none  to  interfere  with  her  private  conduct. 

She  was,  however,  tolerated  again,  but  her  powers  were  decayed, 
and  when  I  saw  her,  her  voice  was  harsh,  her  manner  formal,  and 
she  seemed  to  me  to  be  destitute  of  spirit  and  humour.  What  be- 
came of  her,  or  whether  she  is  alive,  is  hardly  known,  for  she  sunk 
•into  obscurity. 

Dodd  was  a  great  collector  of  old  plays,  and  of  the  warlike  instru- 
ments of  the  American  tribes  of  warriors.  He  was  an  agreeable,  if 
not  a  very  intelligent  companion,  and  for  his  social  qualities  was 
generally  designated  Jemmy  Dodd.  He  had  numerous  connexions 
among  the  higher  order  of  citizens,  who  always  patronised  his  bene- 
fits very  liberally.  He  supported  an  aged  father  with  filial  affection, 
and  gave  a  good  education  to  his  son,  who  was  a  respectable  member 
of  the  church,  and  has  been  dead  many  years. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Madame  Mara.  I  was  introduced  to  this  great  singer  by  my  late 
friend  Salomon,  the  celebrated  performer  on  the  violin,  about  the 
year  1785.  I  had  become  acquainted  with  him  some  years  before. 
It  is  well  known  that  in  her  youth  she  had  been  in  this  country,  and 
supported  herself  by  singing  and  performing  on  the  guitar.  She  had 
been  many  years  abroad,  and  had  cultivated  her  musical  talents  with 
such  success,  that  when  she  came  to  London,  at  the  time  I  was  first 
acquainted  with  her,  she  had  brought  with  her  the  reputation  of 
being  the  first  female  singer  in  Europe.  She  was  immediately 
engaged  for  all  the  great  concerts  in  London,  and  for  the  music-meet- 
ings in  the  chief  country  places. 


MADAME  MARA. 


295 


Having  in  early  life  acquired  the  English  language,  she  retained  it, 
and  had  almost  as  great  a  command  of  it  as  any  native,  except  that 
she  pronounced  some  words  with  a  foreign  accent.  When  she  first 
appeared  as  a  singer  at  Berlin,  hearing  that  she  was  a  native  of  Ger- 
many, Frederick  the  Great  refused  to  witness  her  powers,  alleging 
that  she  was  a  German,  and  therefore  could  not  possibly  be  a  good 
singer.  At  length,  however,  he  was  persuaded  to  hear  her,  and  when 
the  concert  was  over  he  approached  her,  and  asked  if  she  could  sing 
at  sight.  She  answered  in  the  affirmative,  on  which  he  took  a  piece 
of  manuscript  music  from  his  pocket,  and  asked  her  if  she  could  sing 
that.  She  told  me  that  it  was  the  most  difficult  piece  she  had  ever 
met  with,  but  looking  over  it  for  a  few  minutes  she  told  him  that  she 
could.  "  Do  then,"  said  the  king.  She  complied,  and  from  that 
moment  his  prejudice  was  at  an  end,  and  she  became  a  favourite. 
Becoming  however  tired  of  remaining  at  Berlin,  knowing  that  her 
fame  had  extended  to  various  parts  of  Europe,  where  her  presence 
was  anxiously  desired,  and  very  inviting  engagements  having  been 
offered  her,  she  asked  permission  to  visit  Italy  on  account  of  her 
health.    The  king,  however,  would  not  suffer  her  to  depart. 

She  had  a  large  and  very  favourite  harpsichord,  or  pianoforte,  and 
the  king,  who  had  set  a  watch  over  her,  believed  that  while  that  re- 
mained in  Berlin  he  was  secure  of  her.  She  was  therefore  obliged 
to  resort  to  artifice  to  effect  her  escape.  She  sent  the  instrument  to 
be  repaired,  but  ordered  that  instead  of  being  returned  to  her  abode, 
as  soon  as  the  work  was  done  it  should  be  forwarded  to  Vienna. 
When  she  had  reason  to  believe  it  was  secure  from  capture,  she  and 
her  husband  secretly  followed  it  with  all  expedition.  The  wary 
Frederick  was  soon  apprized  of  their  escape,  and  despatched  a  mes- 
senger immediately  to  Joseph  the  Second,  then  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, desiring  that  he  would  arrest  them.  The  emperor  with  great 
kindness  condescended  to  let  them  know  that  there  was  no  resisting 
the  desire  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  therefore  advised  them  to 
hurry  away  as  fast  as  possible,  that  he  might  inform  the  king  his  mes- 
senger had  come  too  late.  Whether  she  came  then  at  once  to  Eng- 
land I  know  not. 

Soon  after  I  was  introduced  to  her,  she  sung  in  the  concerts  at 
Oxford,  but,  sitting  during  the  time  when  the  choruses  were  per- 
forming, as  was  the  custom  with  superior  singers  on  the  Continent, 
the  audience  were  offended,  and  the  reverend  heads  of  the  colleges 
abruptly  dismissed  her.  Conceiving  that  public  prejudice  might 
arise  against  her,  she  requested  Salomon  to  bring  me  to  her,  that  I 
might  hear  her  defence  and  take  up  her  cause.  I  did  so  in  a  public 
journal,  and,  refusing  all  pecuniary  recompense,  we  became  very  in- 
timate ;  and  I  was  upon  the  most  friendly  terms  with  her  and  her 
husband  till  an  unfortunate  attachment  on  her  part  to  a  young  musi- 
cian occasioned  a  separation  between  them,  and  I  then  discontinued 
all  intercourse  with  both,  that  I  might  not  be  thought  to  take  part 
with  either.  Indeed,  I  saw  what  had  been  going  on  some  time 
before  the  event  occurred,  and  took  the  liberty  of  giving  Madame 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Mara  some  advice  on  the  subject,  but,  finding  it  of  no  avail,  I  ab- 
sented myself. 

The  husband  was  very  much  attached  to  her,  though  unfortunately 
more  attached  to  the  bottle  ;  all  her  remonstrances  were  of  no  effect ; 
she  therefore  adopted  the  measures  which  I  have  mentioned  to  get 
rid  of  such  a  domestic  annoyance. 

Mara  was  a  very  sensible  and  intelligent  man,  and  by  all  accounts 
a  good  musician.  I  heard  him  once  perform  at  the  Pantheon  in  a 
duet  on  the  violoncello  with  the  celebrated  Crosdill,  who  was  un- 
rivalled on  that  instrument ;  Mara  nevertheless  received  great  ap- 
plause for  the  rapidity  of  his  execution.  When  his  resources  failed 
him  here,  he  went  to  Berlin,  where  he  was  a  favourite  with  Prince 
Henry,  the  uncle  or  cousin  of  the  king  who  had  formerly  endeav- 
oured to  detain  him ;  but,  unable  to  subdue  his  Bacchanalian  pro- 
pensity, he  lost  the  favour  of  that  prince,  and  died  afterward  in 
obscurity. 

When  he  accompanied  his  wife  to  York,  during  the  zenith  of  her 
fame,  to  perform  in  that  city,  I  had  a  letter  from  him,  in  which,  not 
having  acquired  much  knowledge  of  the  English  language,  he  in- 
formed me,  "that  Charles  Fox  was  then  in  York,  followed  every- 
where by  the  mop,  and  that  the  ringleaders  of  the  place  were  going 
to  give  him  a  dinner." 

Madame  Mara  went  abroad  not  long  after  the  separation,  and  I 
heard  nothing  of  her  for  many  years,  except  that  she  had  settled  at 
Moscow.  She  was  there  during  the  French  invasion,  and  lost  two 
houses  and  other  property  amid  the  patriotic  conflagration  which 
saved  the  country  from  Gallic  plunder  and  despotism.  After  many 
years  she  returned  to  England,  and  surprised  me  one  morning  by  an 
unexpected  call  on  me  at  the  Sun  office  in  the  Strand.  Wre  then 
resumed  our  old  friendship,  and  I  saw  her  frequently  during  her  stay 
in  London.  Her  fame  was  still  high  in  the  musical  world ;  and  Sir 
George  Smart,  knowing  my  intimacy  with  her,  applied  to  me,  re- 
questing me  to  use  my  influence  with  her  to  induce  her  to  accept  50Z. 
a  night  to  sing  at  the  oratorios,  she  having  previously  demanded  100/. 
alleging  that,  as  Catalani  had  only  that  sum,  she  ought  to  perform  for 
less.  I  found  her  inflexible.  She  was  evidently  not  aware  that  her 
musical  powers  had  declined. 

She  was  soon  after  engaged  to  sing  at  the  Hanover-square  con- 
certs, but  some  impediment  interfered.  Anxious  to  know  how  her 
voice  remained,  I  asked  one  of  the  chief  musical  leaders,  and  his 
answer  was,  "  She  dined  with  me  on  Sunday."  "  That  is  no  answer 
to  my  question,"  said  I ;  "  what  is  the  state  of  her  voice  ?" — "  All  I 
can  say  "  rejoined  he,  "  is,  that  Mara  is  still  Mara."  In  fact,  they  had 
not  courage  to  tell  her  of  the  decay  of  her  talents,  but,  conceiving 
she  would  be  less  attractive,  they  evaded  the  engagement. 

When  she  finally  left  England,  she  visited  her  native  country, 
Hesse  Cassel,  from  which  she  wrote  to  me  a  long  letter,  telling  me 
how  kind  the  princess  had  behaved  to  her,  having  patronised  a  con- 
cert, provided  apartments  for  her,  supported  her  table,  and  paid  her 


MRS.  BILLINGTOJf. 


297 


travelling  expenses  to  some  distance  on  her  return  to  Revel,  where 
she  fixed  her  residence  after  the  loss  of  her  property  at  Moscow. 

Madame  Mara  possessed  a  masculine  understanding,  and  had  been 
so  much  used  to  male  society,  which  she  preferred,  that  she  was  little 
qualified  for  an  intercourse  with  the  female  world.  She  was  ani- 
mated in  company,  and  uttered  humorous  and  shrewd  remarks. 
During  her  short  stay  in  this  country  she  was  countenanced  by  some 
of  her  former  patrons,  and  had  two  guineas  a  lesson  for  teaching  sing- 
ing, but  by  no  means  met  with  such  encouragement  as  might  tempt 
her  to  remain.  Mr.  Broadwood,  the  great  musical  instrument  manu- 
facturer, lately  brought  me  a  message  from  her,  informing  me  that 
she  had  begun  to  write  her  reminiscences,  half  of  which  she  had 
written  in  German,  and  asking  my  advice  whether  she  should  proceed 
with  it  in  English.    I  advised  her  to  adopt  the  latter. 

I  had  introduced  Dr.  Wolcot  to  her,  whose  talents  she  understood, 
and  whose  humour  she  enjoyed.  We  passed  the  evening  with  her 
which  preceded  her  departure  on  her  first  return  to  Italy;  and 
asking  him  to  write  a  farewell  impromptu,  he  immediately  wrote  the 
following  couplet : — 

Dear  Maras,  ere  you  cross  the  Alps, 

You'll  catch  d — d  colds  in  both  your  scalps. 

Mrs.  Billington.  I  knew  this  admirable  singer  when  she  was 
very  young,  and  was  present  when  she  first  appeared  in  public,  and 
performed  a  concerto  on  the  piano-forte,  at  seven  years  old.  Her 
brother,  on  the  same  night,  performed  a  concerto  on  the  violin,  when 
he  was  nearly  of  the  same  age.  They  both  displayed  extraordinary 
powers,  even  without  considering  the  early  period  at  which  they  had 
acquired  so  much  skill.  She  was  born  at  Baugh,  in  the  year  1765. 
Her  father  was  of  a  noble  family  in  Germany,  but  by  the  decline  of 
its  rank  and  fortune  he  was  obliged  to  cultivate  his  musical  talents 
for  a  profession.  From  the  early  skill  of  his  children,  it  may  be  pre- 
sumed that  he  was  an  excellent  tutor.  He  was  a  harsh  and  severe 
man,  and  partly  on  account  of  his  temper  his  wife  was  induced  to 
quit  him,  and  to  support  herself  as  a  principal  vocal  performer  at 
Vauxhall  Gardens,  retaining  the  name  of  Weichsell,  though  separated 
from  her  husband.  I  regret  to  say  that  neither  of  the  parents  held 
forth  a  good  example  to  their  offspring. 

Mrs.  Billington  in  her  youth  entered  into  a  clandestine  marriage 
with  Mr.  James  Billington,  a  very  respectable  musician,  who  be- 
longed to  the  band  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  and  performed  on  the 
double  bass.  He  was  a  lively,  intelligent,  and  worthy  man.  He  had 
great  humour  and  general  knowledge ;  he  was  particularly  fond  of 
pictures,  and  a  good  judge  of  their  merit.  From  some  drawings 
which  1  have  seen,  made  by  himself,  I  think  he  wrould  have  been  a 
good  artist  if  he  had  devoted  his  attention  to  painting  rather  than  to 
music.  He  was  a  very  pleasant  and  agreeable  companion,  and  cal- 
culated to  make  an  affectionate  husband. 


298 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


If  Mrs.  Billington's  connexion  with  the  theatre  led  her  into  errors 
in  the  earlier  part  of  her  life,  much  allowance  ought  to  be  made  for 
the  want  of  a  good  example  in  her  parents,  or  rather  to  the  impres- 
sion of  such  an  example  upon  a  young  and  active  mind. 

That  Mrs.  Billington  possessed  a  kind  disposition,  I,  who  knew  her 
early  and  long,  can  confidently  affirm.  Her  great  talents  rendered 
her  an  object  of  envious  rivalry,  and  interested  scribblers  defamed 
her  character.  The  man  who,  by  his  influence  over  her  mother, 
obtained  all  the  property  of  the  latter  by  a  real  or  pretended  will  in 
his  favour,  took  possession  of  that  property,  and  had  the  revolting 
indecency  to  remove  it  from  her  lodgings,  on  the  very  day  of  her 
death:  and  notwithstanding  his  affected  friendship  for  the  mother, 
almost  immediately  after  her  death,  published  a  scurrilous  life  of  the 
daughter,  recording  actions  and  events  which  existed  only  in  the  in- 
vention of  disappointed  malice  and  venality. 

My  father  knew  this  man  when  he  was  much  respected  as  an  officer 
in  the  army,  and  lived  in  good  society.  He  went  to  India,  but  con- 
ducted himself  there  in  such  a  manner  that  he  was  sent  home,  and  in 
consequence  of  his  dissipated  habits  degenerated  in  character,  and 
associated  chiefly  with  those  who  procured  unwary  prey  for  a  rapa- 
cious money-lender,  who  left  immense  wealth  at  his  death.  What 
induced  me  to  suspect  that  he  obtained  Mrs.  Weichsell's  property  by 
means  of  a  forged  will,  wras  a  circumstance  that  occurred  in  the 
earlier  part  of  his  life.  He  courted  a  lady  of  some  fortune  and  great 
expectations.  In  order  to  appear  to  her  a  man  of  property,  he  sat 
up  the  whole  of  several  nights  to  fabricate  fictitious  title-deeds,  which 
he  submitted  to  her  inspection.  By  these  means  she  was  tempted 
to  marry  him,  but  soon  finding  that  she  had  forfeited  the  patronage  of 
her  family,  and  been  duped  by  an  adventurer,  she  threw  herself  from 
the  window  of  a  second  floor,  in  the  vicinity  of  St.  James's,  and  was 
killed  on  the  spot.  He  was  a  handsome,  sprightly  man,  and  retained 
a  military  air  even  in  the  decline  of  life. 

Bad  as  his  conduct  was,  I  must  mention  one  circumstance  to  his 
credit.  He  had  risen  from  parents  in  very  humble  life,  and  when  he 
was  walking  one  day  with  some  of  his  brother  officers,  he  saw  an  old 
woman  at  a  distance,  with  a  basket  on  her  head ;  "  Ay,"  said  he, 
"  there's  my  poor  old  mother ;  I  must  go  and  kiss  her."  She  was 
really  his  mother.  He  ran  to  her,  kissed  her,  shook  her  by  the  hand, 
gave  her  money,  and  then  joined  his  companions.  The  poor  w  oman 
was  confused  on  his  account,  and  endeavoured  to  avoid  this  act  of 
filial  duty  and  affection. 

What  became  of  this  man  I  know  not,  whether  he  is  dead  or  sunk 
into  obscurity,  but  he  is  a  lamentable  proof  of  degeneracy  of  character, 
for  when  my  father  first  knew  him,  he  was  esteemed  a  spirited 
young  man  of  the  most  honourable  principles,  and  perhaps  at  that 
period  would  have  looked  with  horror  on  the  possibility  of  his  being 
guilty  of  such  conduct  as  he  subsequently  practised  respecting  the- 
property  of  Mrs.  Billington's  mother,  and  still  more  on  the  idea  of 
extorting  money  from  the  daughter  by  a  libel  on  her  life, 


MRS.  BILLINGTON. 


299 


On  the  day  when  the  work  appeared,  Mr.  Billington  purchased  a 
copy  as  the  ground  for  a  prosecution.  In  the  evening  I  called  on  his 
wife,  to  endeavour  to  sooth  her  feelings  under  such  a  virulent  and 
venal  calumny.  I  advised  her  to  let  the  slander  drop  into  obscurity. 
The  husband  and  wife  adopted  my  advice,  and  the  work  fell  by  its 
own  malice,  hardly  affording  the  venomous  calumniator,  I  will  not 
degrade  the  name  of  author  by  applying  it  to  him,  the  expense  of  his 
worthless  publication. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  trace  Mrs.  Billington's  progress  in  her  pro- 
fession. She  first  distinguished  herself  as  a  vocal  performer  of  the 
highest  class  in  Dublin  ;  and  her  fame  spreading  widely,  she  was 
offered  liberal  terms  by  my  late  friend  Mr.  Harris,  senior,  the  prin- 
cipal proprietor  of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  appeared  there  in  the 
year  1781.  The  play  on  that  night  was  ordered  by  his  majesty 
George  the  Third.  She  displayed  such  powers  on  that  occasion  as 
may  be  said  to  have  established  her  fame,  and  secured  her  independ- 
ence. She  was  soon  after  engaged  for  all  the  chief  concerts  in  tho 
metropolis,  and  for  all  the  country  music-meetings,  and  at  length  re- 
ceived such  inviting  offers  from  Italy  as  induced  her  to  visit  that 
country. 

Mr.  Billington  died  at  Naples.  I  lost  in  him  a  worthy  and  agree- 
able man,  with  talents  which  I  doubt  not  would  have  enabled  him  to 
make  a  respectable  figure  in  any  other  profession ;  and  if  her  merits 
had  been  confined  to  private  life,  I  am  persuaded  they  were  likely  to 
have  been  a  happy  couple,  t)ut  she  was  unfortunately,  by  her  beautiful 
person  and  great  musical  powers,  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  admira- 
tion, flattery,  and  influence  of  the  gay  world. 

Mrs.  Billington,  on  her  return  to  this  country  after  the  death  of  her 
first  husband,  continued  in  the  most  perfect  harmony  with  his  rela- 
tions ;  and  when  his  younger  brother,  an  artist  of  great  merit  died, 
she  attended  his  funeral  on  a  very  rainy  day,  and  exposed  herself  in 
the  church-yard,  though  so  much  depended  on  her  voice.  I  was  one 
of  the  mourners,  and  witnessed  the  sincerity  of  her  grief  on  the 
melancholy  occasion. 

She  was  unfortunately  married  again  to  a  Frenchman  who  had 
some  connexion  with  Bonaparte's  army,  but,  not  living  happily 
together,  they  parted,  and  she  returned  to  this  country,  where  she 
exerted  her  talents  with  equal  splendour  and  success.  She  acquired 
a  large  fortune,  and  lived  with  liberal  hospitality,  allowing  her  hus- 
band a  suitable  provision.  She  frequently  gave  splendid  concerts 
and  entertainments  at  her  large  and  elegant  mansion  near  Hammer- 
smith. At  length,  after  her  husband  had  borne  a  separation  from  her 
of  about  sixteen  years,  he  signified  that  he  could  not  subdue  his  affec- 
tion for  her,  and  desired  her  to  rejoin  him  abroad.  Many  of  her 
friends  earnestly  entreated  her  not  to  return  to  a  man  from  whom 
she  had  so  long  separated,  and  whose  only  motive  for  requiring  a  re- 
union was,  most  probably,  to  obtain  possession  of  the  fortune  which 
she  had  acquired.    I  wrote  with  the  same  view,  and  in  her  answer 


300 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


she  says,  "  He  is  my  husband,  and  I  know  my  duty/'  I  retain  her 
letter. 

I  have  been  told  that  she  held  him  in  terror,  and  that  it  is  probable 
she  returned  to  him  because  she  knew  the  power  of  a  husband,  and 
was  afraid  of  inducing  him  to  exert  it.  She  returned  to  him,  and  I 
never  heard  from  her  again.  There  were  strange  reports  respecting 
the  cause  of  her  death ;  but  as  her  brother,  Mr.  Weichsell,  was  on 
the  spot,  or  near  it,  when  she  died,  and  does  not  give  countenance 
to  these  reports,  it  may  be  concluded  that  they  are  not  well  founded. 

On  her  death  her  husband  returned  to  this  country,  and  demanded 
her  property  from  her  trustee,  Mr.  Savory,  her  firm  and  zealous 
friend ;  and  as  there  was  no  opposing  claim,  I  understood  from  Mr. 
Savory  that  he  paid  him  to  the  amount  of  about  40,000Z. 

On  returning  from  one  of  her  visits  to  Italy,  her  fame  was  so  great 
that  Mr.  Hill,  the  proprietor  of  "The  Monthly  Mirror,"  requested  I 
would  give  him  a  sketch  of  her  life.  I  applied  to  her  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  in  her  answer,  after  mentioning  the  particulars  of  her 
family,  she  concludes  with  saying,  "  For  God's  sake  do  not  make  me 
more  than  thirty."  This  circumstance  ought  to  have  been  introduced 
before.  Such  was  the  fate  of  Mrs.  Billington,  for  whom  I  had  a 
warm  and  pure  friendship,  and  whom  I  shall  always  remember  with 
sincere  affection.  She  was  beautiful  in  person,  amiable  in  dispo- 
sition, and  possessed  of  the  highest  musical  talents  and  attainments. 

Mr.  John  Johnstone.  This  gentleman  united  the  qualities  of  an 
excellent  actor  and  a  very  agreeable  singer.  In  the  representation 
of  Irish  characters,  he  was  much  superior  to  any  other  actor  within 
my  remembrance.  Moody  was  a  good  actor,  but  heavy  and  sluggish, 
and  in  the  performance  of  Irish  characters  his  merit  was  chiefly  con- 
fined to  those  of  a  lower  description.  But  Mr.  Johnstone  was  always 
active  and  sprightly,  and  admirable  in  representing  his  countrymen, 
whether  of  the  higher  or  lower  order,  or  in  any  of  the  intermediate 
degrees.  The  Irish  of  all  ranks  are  known  to  be  arch,  witty,  and 
humorous ;  and  Johnstone  had  fully  studied  the  national  character. 
There  was  a  peculiar  spirit  in  his  manner,  and  he  had  great  penetra- 
tion. His  Foigard  was  perfect.  His  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger,  though 
of  a  totally  different  nature,  he  performed  with  equal  skill.  Sir  Cal- 
laghan  also  was  a  part  in  which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  ex- 
celled. But  he  was  not  confined  to  Irish  character.  Whatever  parts 
required  manly  spirit,  seemed  always  to  have  been  written  originally 
to  draw  forth  his  talents.  He  was  a  very  lively  companion,  and  had 
often  been  honoured  by  the  countenance  of  his  late  majesty,  and  ad- 
mitted into  the  royal  festive  parties.  His  manner  of  singing  humor- 
ous songs  was  superior  to  any  other  performer  that  I  ever  witnessed, 
and  if  asked  for  a  song,  he  complied  as  readily  as  if  he  had  been 
asked  for  information  on  any  current  event. 

Many  a  pleasant  hour  I  passed  in  his  company  at  the  hospitable 
table  of  our  mutual  friend  Francis  Const,  Esq.,  the  chairman  of  the 
Middlesex  sessions.  But  though  Mr.  Johnstone  was  ready  for  any 
jovial  occasion,  he  was  wisely  attentive  to  the  dictates  of  prudence  ; 


JOHNSTONE  MR.  o'KEEFFE. 


301 


and  conscious  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  theatrical  profession,  the  fluc- 
tuations of  fashion,  and  the  caprices  of  public  taste,  he  managed  the 
profits  of  his  talents  with  discretion.  While  he  lived  like  a  gentleman, 
and  often  entertained  his  friends,  he  avoided  all  extravagance ;  and 
from  his  entrance  into  the  theatrical  community,  took  warning  from 
those  who  were  careless  and  insensible  to  the  value  of  independence, 
which  it  was  his  chief  aim  to  obtain,  for  the  purpose  of  not  depending 
on  the  caprice  or  tyranny  of  theatrical  managers ;  and  that  he  might 
enjoy  a  competence  in  the  decline  of  life.  He  was,  however,  one  of 
those  who  might  be  indifferent  to  the  conduct  of  managers ;  as  he 
possessed  talents  that  rendered  him  a  prime  favourite  of  the  public, 
and  consequently  secured  him  a  welcome  reception  at  any  theatre. 

His  figure  was  tall  and  manly,  his  face  handsome  and  expressive, 
and  there  was  an  ease  and  firmness  in  his  gait,  which  probably  was 
the  effect  of  his  having,  in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  been  in  the  army. 
Towards  its  decline,  however,  his  person  was  much  altered,  but  his 
mind  retained  all  its  sense  of  humour  and  vivacity  till  his  last  illness, 
which  ended  in  his  deliverance  from  all  earthly  troubles.  I  have 
dwelt  the  longer  upon  the  character  of  Johnstone,  because  I  thought 
highly  of  his  intellectual  powers,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  would 
have  appeared  to  advantage  in  any  situation  that  required  attention, 
discretion,  and  sagacity. 

Mr.  O'Keeffe.  This  gentleman,  who  is  still  alive,  and  who  may 
be  considered,  sui  generis,  as  a  dramatic  writer,  I  have  long  known, 
and  have  had  the  pleasure  of  writing  two  or  three  prologues,  at  his 
desire,  for  some  of  his  dramatic  productions.  I  have  letters  from  him 
expressive  of  more  thanks  than  such  trifling  favours  could  deserve. 
He  had  the  misfortune  to  be  blind  ever  since  I  knew  him,  and  there- 
fore was  not  able  to  take  that  part  in  company  for  which  he  was  wTell 
qualified  by  original  wit  and  humour,  and,  as  1  have  reason  to  believe, 
also  by  learning. 

He  had  written  a  play,  of  which  our  renowned  Alfred  was  the  hero, 
to  which,  at  his  request,  I  gave  a  prologue.  In  this  prologue  I 
courted  for  him,  of  course,  the  favour  of  the  public,  and  signified  that 
they  would  no  doubt  be  surprised  that  he  who  produced  "  Bowkit," 
"  Lingo,"  &c.  should  venture  to  portray  the  glorious  founder  of  our 
laws.  This  prologue  was  spoken,  but  I  understood  that  it  did  not 
satisfy  Mr.  O'Keeffe,  who  considered  himself  as  equally  qualified  for 
the  serious  and  sportive  drama.  As  a  proof  he  was  offended  that  I 
did  not  give  him  credit  for  a  genius  for  the  heroic  drama,  as  well  as 
for  the  luxuriance  of  his  humour  in  farce-writing,  when  a  subscription 
was  raised  for  the  publication  of  his  works  in  four  volumes,  in  order, 
to  purchase  an  annuity  for  him,  to  which  I  was  glad  to  subscribee 
though  he  introduced  all  the  other  prologues  I  wrote  for  him,  he 
omitted  the  one  in  question  ;  yet,  if  I  do  not  mistake  my  own  humble 
productions,  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  many  which  I  have  written. 

Mr.  O'Keeffe,  in  his  "  Reminiscences,"  mentions  having  met  me. 
I  remember  that  I  met  him  twice  at  the  table  of  Mr.  Daly,  formerly 
the  proprietor  and  manager  of  the  Dublin  theatre,  who  was  a  hand- 

0 


302 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIF& 


some  man,  with  a  figure  well  formed  for  tragedy,  and  the  higher 
characters  of  the  comic  drama.  He  remained  in  London  some  weeks, 
and  I  dined  in  company  with  him  again  at  Mrs.  Billington's.  Mr. 
Daly,  according  to  reports,  was  irritable  and  impetuous  ;  but,  if  such 
was  his  temper,  it  did  not  appear  in  company,  for  while  wit,  humour, 
and  raillery  flew  around  him,  he  seemed  rather  disposed  to  share  in 
the  mirth,  even  when  some  of  the  sportive  effusions  glanced  at 
himself. 

Mr.  Daly  w7as  the  second  husband  of  Miss  Barsanti,  a  lady  who 
distinguished  herself  in  her  early  life  at  Covent  Garden,  by  her 
theatrical  powers,  and  her  admirable  imitation  of  French  and  italian 
manners.  Her  person  at  that  time  was  tall  and  slim,  and  her  action 
spirited,  graceful,  and  elegant.  Never  did  I  see  such  an  alteration 
in  person  and  manners  as  when  I  saw  her  as  Mrs.  Daly.  She  had 
become  very  bulky,  and  though  amiable  and  attentive,  her  manners 
were  plain,  and  she  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  a  rustic  matron  who 
had  never  seen  the  metropolis.  Her  husband's  attention  to  her 
seemed  to  invalidate  all  the  unfavourable  reports  of  the  irritability  of 
his  nature. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Michael  Kelly.  Though  I  class  Mr.  Kelly  among  theatrical 
performers,  I  rank  him  also  as  a  private  friend, — for  a  more  friendly 
nature  I  have  not  known.  Though  he  had  no  pretensions  to  literary 
merit,  he  did  not  want  good  taste,  nor  was  it  confined  to  his  musical 
profession.  Allowing  for  vanity,  an  essential  ingredient  in  human 
nature,  he  possessed  humour,  and  was  a  pleasant  companion.  His 
"  Reminiscences,"  from  which  I  have  derived  more  amusement  than 
from  similar  works  written  with  higher  claims  to  literary  notice, 
represent  his  character  faithfully,  and  prove  what  I  have  before  said 
of  him,  viz.  that  he  was  only  an  enemy  to  himself.  His  hospitable 
turn,  resulting  from  the  habits  of  his  country,  as  well  as  from  his  own 
liberal  disposition,  prevented  his  acquiring  that  independence  which 
otherwise  his  talents  would  probably  have  obtained. 

Madame  Mara,  one  of  my  early  and  most  intimate  friends,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  world,  gave  me  a  favourable  representa- 
tion of  Mr.  Kelly  before  I  knew  him.  She  assured  me  that  he  was 
very  good-natured,  that  he  possessed  great  humour,  and  was  peculiarly 
successful  in  imitating  foreign  manners,  particularly  those  of  foreign 
musical  performers  and  composers.  I  had  never  any  reason  to  think 
that  Mara  had  been  mistaken  in  his  character. 

He  first  appeared  at  Drury-lane  theatre  in  the  opera  of  "  Lionel 
and  Clarissa,"  in  which  he  performed  the  part  of  Lionel.  I  did  not 
admire  his  singing,  and  his  acting  was  such  an  odd  mixture  of  foreign 


MICHAEL  KELLY. 


303 


manners  and  accents,  supported  by  the  native  pronunciation  of  his 
country,  Ireland,  that,  being  connected  with  a  public  journal  at  the 
time,  I  did  not  wish  to  bring  my  humble  judgment  in  question,  or  to 
say  any  thing  injurious  to  a  young  man  who  came  to  London  with 
high  musical  fame,  and  of  whose  private  character  I  had  heard  a 
^ood  report  I  was  the  more  disposed  to  decline  criticising  his  per- 
formance, on  account  of  Messrs.  Sheridan  and  Richardson,  proprietors 
of  Drury-lane  theatre,  with  whom  I  was  intimate,  and  who  expected 
much  advantage  from  his  talents.  I  therefore  requested  Mr.  Richard- 
son to  give  an  account  of  Kelly's  first  appearance  ;  the  interest  which 
he  took  in  the  theatre,  as  well  as  his  own  benignant  temper,  induced 
him  readily  to  undertake  the  task,  and  his  report  was  highly  favour- 
able. Kelly  then,  from  his  intimacy  with  Stephen  Storace,  a  musical 
composer  of  great  merit,  and  with  the  kind  aid  of  Mr.  Cobb,  the 
dramatic  author,  had  songs  and  characters  provided  for  him,  which 
brought  him  forward,  and  enabled  him  to  become  a  favourite  with 
the  public. 

Kelly  was  ambitious  of  high  and  literary  connexions,  and  his 
cheerful  disposition  and  amusing  talents  forwarded  his  pretensions. 
By  his  own  account  in  his  two  published  volumes,  he  must  have  been 
patronised,  and  admitted  to  a  familiar  intercourse  with  many  of  the 
most  distinguished  characters  in  Europe,  in  point  of  rank  as  well  as 
talents.  Few  persons,  indeed,  seem  to  have  enjoyed  a  more  happy 
life,  or  to  have  passed  through  the  world  with  a  less  offensive,  or 
indeed  a  more  conciliating  temper. 

He  has  fallen  into  some  mistakes  in  his  biographical  work,  but  they 
are  all  of  a  trifling  nature,  and  hardly  worth  notice.  In  his  first 
volume,  he  gives  an  account  of  what  befell  a  countryman  of  his  own', 
according  to  the  report  of  a  Venetian.  The  Irishman  had  unguardedly 
thrown  out  some  reflections  on  the  Venetian  government,  having 
suffered  by  a  theft ;  the  Venetian,  therefore,  advised  Kelly  to  keep 
a  "  silent  tongue"  lest  he  should  be  involved  in  similar  danger.  I  have 
a  similar  story  to  relate  on  indisputable  authority,  and  I  may  therefore 
presume  that  similar  events  have  happened  under  the  same  vigilant 
and  formerly  rigorous  government. 

The  fact  w  hich  I  am  going  to  mention  I  derived  from  Mr.  Roma", 
a  native  Venetian,  who  assured  me  that  he  was  on  the  spot  at  the 
time.  An  Austrian  prince,  passing  through  the  streets  of  Venice, 
was  struck  by  an  embroidered  piece  of  stuff  in  one  of  the  shops,  and 
ordered  one  of  his  attendants  to  buy  and  bring  it  home  with  him. 
The  man  did  so,  but  it  was  pillaged  from  him  as  he  passed.  When 
he  informed  his  master  of  the  loss,  the  prince  said  that  he  thought 
the  Venetian  government  was  too  vigilant  for  such  a  theft  to  take 
place.  Within  an  hour  after,  the  Austrian  prince  was  summoned  to 
a  legal  tribunal  then  sitting.  He  was  introduced  into  a  darkened 
room,  where  sat  three  judges  in  black  attire.  He  was  formally  asked 
to  tell  his  name,  his  rank,  and  his  motive  for  visiting  Venice.  Having 
answered  these  questions,  he  was  then  asked  with  the  most  awful 
solemnity,  if  he  had  ever  uttered  any  reflections  on  the  Venetian 

02 


304 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


state.  The  prince  was  so  bewildered  with  the  scene  before  him, 
and  the  terrific  aspect  and  manners  of  the  judges,  that  he  was  unable 
to  recollect  till  he  was  reminded  of  his  loss,  when  he  attempted  to 
stammer  out  an  apology  for  what  he  had  uttered  on  the  occasion- 
He  was  then  told  that  he  was  excused,  as  a  foreigner,  but  that  he 
should  have  a  proof  of  the  vigilance  and  justice  of  the  Venetian 
government.  Folding  doors  were  then  opened  into  a  very  light 
room,  and  the  thief  was  seen  hanging  with  the  embroidered  stuff 
under  his  arm.  As  soon  as  the  prince  was  released  from  this 
terrific  tribunal,  he  took  his  departure  immediately  from  Venice, 
and  did  not  stop  on  his  journey  till  he  was  out  of  the  reach  of  its 
government. 

Mr.  Kelly's  connexion  with  Mrs.  Crouch  brought  him  more 
forward  in  the  eyes  of  the  public.  I  knew  her  first  when  she  was 
about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  she  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
young  women  I  ever  saw.  Her  person  pointed  her  out  as  destined 
for  an  appearance  in  public  life,  and  she  was  studying  music  at  the 
time.  I  passed  an  evening  with  her  at  the  house  of  her  father  in 
Gray's  Inn  lane.  He  was  a  solicitor,  but  had  been  in  the  mercantile 
sea-service  before  he  entered  the  profession  of  the  law.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  to  be  in  company  with  so  beautiful  a  young 
woman  and  not  pay  particular  attention  to  her  ;  hut  her  father  kept 
a  rigid  eye  upon  her,  and  looked  displeased  when  any  thing  was 
addressed  to  her  in  the  way  of  compliment.  I  remember  that  she 
sang  "  My  Lodging  is  on  the  cold  Ground,"  a  popular  song  at  that 
time,  with  so  much  sweetness,  feeling,  and  expression,  that  I  augured 
highly  in  favour  of  her  success  in  public  life.  Her  progress  on  the 
stage  as  an  actress  as  well  as  a  singer,  fully  justified  my  anticipation. 
I  retained  my  friendship  with  her  till  her  death,  and  had  many 
opportunities  of  supporting  her  talents  through  the  medium  of  the 
public  press,  of  which  I  always  availed  myself. 

I  was  once  highly  mortified  in  learning  that  she  thought  I  had 
severely  commented  on  her  acting  in  a  morning  paper.  The 
circumstance  was  as  follows :  I  met  Kelly  one  morning,  and,  after 
the  customary  greeting,  I  asked  after  Mrs.  Crouch.  His  manner  of 
answering  seemed  a  little  mysterious,  and  induced  me  to  desire  an 
explanation.  "  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  he,  "  she  is 
much  offended  with  you,  as  she  hears  you  have  mentioned  her 
harshly  in  a  newspaper."  Finding  that  she  was  at  home,  I  hastened 
instantly  to  the  place.  There  was  a  gloomy  expression  in  her 
countenance,  which  was  increased  when  I  said,  "Mrs.  Crouch,  I 
have  a  crow  to  pluck  with  you."  Conceiving  herself  to  be  the 
aggrieved  party,  "  With  me  V  said  she,  indignantly.  "  Yes,"  said  I, 
"  for  supposing  it  possible  that  I,  who  had  known  you  from  your 
youth,  and  was  a  friend  to  your  family  as  well  as  to  yourself,  could 
have  written  any  thing  adverse  to  you,  without  the  least  offence  on 
your  part.  I  solemnly  assure  you  that  my  humble  pen  has  never 
been  employed  to  your  prejudice,  but  always  in  your  favour."  Hav- 
ing known  me  many  years,  and  having  very  often  experienced  proofs 


MRS.  CROUCH — JOHN  KEMBLE. 


of  my  friendship  in  public  journals,  she  readily  gave  credit  to  what  I 
said,  and  by  her  beautiful  smiles  amply  compensated  for  her  previous 
adverse  glances. 

I  was  not  satisfied  with  this  vindication  of  myself,  but,  as  she  per- 
formed in  the  evening,  I  sent  a  letter  to  her  in  the  green-room  the 
same  night,  in  which  I  repeated  my  assurance  that  she  had  been 
misinformed,  and  declared  that  the  person  who  had  given  the  false 
information  was  "  a  liar  and  a  scoundrel  f  desiring  her  to  disclose 
the  contents  of  my  letter  to  any  other  person  who  might  have  heard 
of  the  accusation.    She  was,  of  course,  fully  satisfied. 

I  soon  discovered  the  malignant  source  of  this  falsehood.  A  man 
of  talents  as  an  artist,  but  who  had  an  unfortunate  itch  for  scribbling, 
was  a  voluntary  contributor  to  a  public  print  with  which  I  was  con- 
nected, but  in  the  management  of  which  I  had  no  concern ;  and  he 
frequently  employed  his  pen  in  the  most  venomous  effusions  of  his 
spleen  without  provocation.  He  was  the  author  of  this  attack  on 
Mrs.  Crouch,  and,  hearing  that  it  excited  great  attention  among  the 
theatrical  community,  and  was  considered  as  an  act  of  wanton  ma- 
levolence, he  became  apprehensive  of  detection,  as  he  was  known  to 
write  for  the  paper  in  question,  and  therefore  hinted  to  Mrs.  Crouch 
that  I  wrote  the  theatrical  articles  in  that  paper,  insidiously  leaving 
her  to  conclude  I  was  the  author. 

Having  previously  had  reason  to  believe  that  he  had  attempted  to 
shift  other  articles  of  a  similar  kind  upon  me,  I  was  soon  confirmed 
in  my  suspicion,  and  resolved  at  once  to  put  an  end  to  the  connexion, 
though  I  had  been  in  habits  of  intimacy  with  him  many  years,  and 
always  had  a  full  reliance  on  his  friendship.  I  therefore  wrote  to 
him  immediately,  accused  him  of  his  perfidy  with  respect  to  Mrs. 
Crouch,  and  mentioned  other  victims  of  his  malice,  to  whom  he  had 
excused  himself  by  attempting  to  throw  the  odium  upon  me.  Instead 
of  denying  the  charge,  he  demanded  my  authority,  and  as  I  could  not 
betray  confidence,  I  contented  myself  with  silent  contempt  for  the 
present;  but  as  we  were  connected  with  a  wide  circle  of  mutual 
acquaintance,  and  the  dissolution  of  our  friendship  excited  much  atten- 
tion, I  revenged  myself  by  writing  a  character  of  him  in  doggrel 
verse,  of  which  I  never  gave  a  copy,  but  read  it  to  everybody  who 
called  on  me  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  it.  I  soon  found  that  his 
character  was  better  known  to  his  acquaintance  in  general  than  it 
had  been  to  me,  and  that  they  all  admitted  it  to  be  an  accurate  por- 
trait. Many  solicited  a  copy,  but  I  never  gave  one,  on  account  of 
his  family. 

We  had  belonged  to  an  evening  club,  from  which  I  withdrew,  as 
it  was  not  unlikely  that  very  unpleasant  feelings  might  have  arisen 
had  we  both  been  subsequently  present  at  the  same  time ;  not  that 
any  violence  was  to  be  apprehended  on  his  part,  for  he  was  a  very 
timid  man,  and  a  great  deal  of  his  time  was  passed  in  making  expla- 
nations and  apologies  to  his  friends  for  some  mistake  into  which  he 
had  fallen  from  misrepresentation.  He  once  made  a  caricature  of 
Mr.  Kemble,  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan  was  represented  as  holding 


306 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Kemble's  head  in  terrorem,  to  frighten  people  from  the  theatre, — a 
design  as  absurd  as  malignant,  since  it  was  evidently  Mr.  Sheridan's 
object  to  allure  them.  Hearing  that  Mr.  Kemble  was  likely  to  resent 
such  an  insult,  this  insidious  and  perfidious  man  requested  me  to  call 
upon  him,  and  assure  him  that  he  had  no  hand  in  the  caricature,  but 
that  it  was  done  by  some  zealous  friend  of  his,  who  thought  that  Mr. 
Kemble  had  insulted  him,  by  desiring  him  not  to  remain  behind  the 
scenes  on  a  busy  night  when  there  was  hardly  room  for  the  performers 
to  move. 

This  was,  indeed,  the  foundation  of  the  attack  on  Mr.  Kemble,  by 
the  man  himself,  and  not  by  any  zealous  friend.  I  delivered  his  mes- 
sage to  Mr.  Kemble,  whose  answer  was,  "  Well,  Taylor,  if  the  man 
chooses  to  tell  a  lie,  I  may  as  well  put  an  end  to  the  matter  by  affect- 
ing to  believe  him."  He  had  been  introduced  on  the  occasion  alluded 
to  behind  the  scenes  by  Mr.  John  Bannister,  with  whom  he  was  very 
intimate,  and  Mr.  Kemble,  then  manager  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  seeing 
him  there,  observed  that  the  admission  of  strangers  interfered  with 
the  business  of  the  stage,  and  requested  that  he  would  retire.  This 
act  of  duty  and  necessity  on  the  part  of  the  manager  excited  the  re- 
sentment of  the  visiter,  and  induced  him  to  resort  to  the  pitiful  revenge 
which  I  have  mentioned. 

Fully  to  illustrate  the  character  of  this  vain  and  envious  man,  he 
had  reported  that  Mr.  John  Bannister,  on  an  application  for  pecuniary 
assistance  from  his  father,  had  refused  to  assist  him  with  a  loan  of  five 
guineas,  unless  he  would  leave  his  watGh  as  a  security  for  repayment ; 
and  he  therefore  called  Mr.  Bannister,  junior,  the  "  little  pawnbroker," 
though  he  was  on  terms  of  friendship  with  him  at  the  same  time. 
This  malignant  fabrication  reached  the  ear  of  young  Bannister;  and 
as  I  was  returning  to  town  very  early  one  summer  morning,  just  as  I 
entered  Piccadilly  from  Hyde  Park,  I  was  saluted  from  a  hackney- 
coach,  in  which  I  found  Mr.  Bannister,  junior,  and  my  old  friend  Harry 
Angelo,  who  has  recently  published  his  amusing  "  Reminiscences."  I 
soon  learned  that  they  were  on  their  way  to  call  on  the  man  whom 
I  have  been  describing,  in  order  to  make  him  apologize  to  Mr.  Ban- 
nister for  the  opprobrious  falsehood  which  the  latter  had  invented 
against  him.  I  reasoned  with  them  on  the  impropriety  of  disturbing 
a  man  with  his  family,  probably  before  he  had  risen ;  and  Bannister 
agreed  to  return,  provided  I  would  go  with  them  and  read  my  char- 
acter of  the  man  to  our  friend  Rowlandson,  the  celebrated  artist,  who 
had  not  heard  it.  As  I  never  gave  a  copy  of  this  character,  and  as 
the  subject  heard  of  it  from  many  quarters,  I  felt,  perhaps,  a  blameable 
gratification  in  conceiving  that  he  probably  supposed  it  to  be  much 
more  severe  than  it  was  possible  for  me  to  have  made  it. 

But  I  have  forgotten  my  friend  Michael  Kelly  all  this  while.  In 
the  second  volume  of  hjs-"  Reminiscences,"  he  relates  an  anecdote 
respecting  Mr.  Sheridan,  which  he  said  he  derived  from  the  late  Mr. 
William  Woodfall,  but,  as  he  does  not  state  it  correctly,  1  shall  men- 
tion it  as  I  heard  it,  more  than  once,  from  Mr.  Woodfall  himself,  who 


SHERIDAN — RICHARDSON. 


307 


was  my  particular  friend,  and  on  whose  veracity  as  well  as  memory 
I  could  perfectly  rely. 

It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  Sheridan  was  engaged  in  a  duel  with  a 
Captain  Matthews,  with  whom  he  had  previously  been  on  friendly 
terms,  attended  with  peculiar  circumstances  of  mutual  animosity,  and 
even  of  desperation.  A  letter  on  this  subject,  containing  severe  re- 
flections on  Mr.  Sheridan,  appeared  in  "  The  Bath  Chronicle,"  or 
some  other  Bath  journal.  In  consequence  of  this  letter,  Mr.  Sheridan 
waited  upon  Mr.  W.  Woodfall,  then  the  proprietor  and  conductor  of 
"The  Morning  Chronicle,"  of  which  he  was  the  founder,  and  requested 
that  Mr.  Woodfall  would  copy  the  letter  from  the  Bath  paper  into 
his  own  journal.  Mr.  Woodfall  expressed  his  surprise  that  Mr. 
Sheridan  should  wish  to  give  a  wider  circulation  to  so  bitter  an  attack 
on  him.  "  That  is  the  very  reason,"  said  Mr.  Sheridan ;  "  for  as  I  can 
refute  every  part  of  that  letter,  I  wish  the  attack  and  the  answer  to 
be  spread  over  the  kingdom,  instead  of  being  confined  to  a  provincial 
paper."  Mr.  Sheridan  added,  that  on  the  day  after  the  letter  appeared 
in  "  The  Morning  Chronicle"  he  would  bring  the  refutation.  Accord- 
ingly the  letter  was  published  in  "  The  Morning  Chronicle,"  but  Mr. 
Sheridan,  though  applied  to  for  the  refutation,  never  wTOte  a  syllable 
on  the  subject,  and  from  mere  negligence  or  contempt  thus  dissem- 
inated a  calumny  against  himself. 

Mr.  Woodfall  said,  that  when  people  came  to  him  with  complaints 
against  Mr.  Sheridan  for  inattention,  he  used  to  relate  this  anecdote 
to  them,  and  ask  how  they  could  expect  more  attention  from  one  who 
was  so  negligent  in  matters  that  so  nearly  affected  his  own  reputation. 
Such  is  the  fact  as  I  heard  it  from  Mr.  Woodfall. 

The  only  part  of  Mr.  Kelly's  work  which  I  read  with  regret  was 
a  passage  which  related  to  Mr.  Richardson.  I  will  cite  the  passage. 
M  Mr.  Richardson  was  a  good  man,  and  one  of  my  most  intimate 
friends ;  but,  like  his  great  prototype  and  bosom  friend,  was  indolence 
personified,  and  to-morrow,  as  with  Sheridan,  was  his  day  of  business. 
He  even  seemed  ambitious  of  imitating  the  foibles  of  Sheridan,  which 
was  bad  taste,  considering  the  disparity  of  their  talents ;  for  as  the 
Spanish  poet  Garcia  observes, '  the  eagle  may  gaze  steadfastly  at  the 
sun,  while  the  butterfly  is  dazzled  by  the  light  of  a  taper/  not  but  that 
Richardson  possessed  considerable  literary  talent." 

This  passage  naturally  offended  Mr.  Richardson's  three  surviving 
daughters,  very  amiable  and  accomplished  women.  I  knew  Mr. 
Richardson  from  his  first  leaving  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  till 
his  death,  and  can  affirm  that  what  Mr.  Kelly  styles  "  indolence  per- 
sonified" was  a  fondness  for  study,  reading,  and  reflection,  and  a 
reluctance,  except  upon  absolute  necessity,  to  leave  his  family,  con- 
sisting of  his  wife,  a  remarkably  intelligent  woman,  and  four  amiable 
daughters,  one  of  whom  died  some  years  after  his  death. 

Mr.  Richardson  did  not  speak  in  the  House  of  Commons,  because 
he  knew  that  his  Northumberland  accent  might  expose  him  to  ridi- 
cule ;  as  he  had  a  high  sense  of  personal  dignity,  for  I  will  not  call  it 
pride.    But  his  literary  exertions  in  support  of  the  Fox  party,  his 


308 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


comedy  of  "  The  Fugitive,"  his  share  in  "  The  Rolliads  and  Proba- 
tionary Odes,"  and  other  exertions  of  his  pen,  of  which  Mr.  Kelly 
could  know  nothing,  should  have  exempted  him  from  a  charge  of 
extreme  indolence.  But  besides  that  I  cannot  perceive  the  appli- 
cability of  the  quotation  from  the  Spanish  poet,  I  must  say  Mr.  Kelly 
was  totally  incapable  of  forming  a  due  estimate  of  the  powers  of  Mr. 
Richardson,  who  was  the  favourite  and  chief  confidential  friend  of 
Mr.  Sheridan,  a  person  certainly  much  better  qualified  to  decide  upon 
Mr.  Richardson's  intellectual  faculties  and  attainments  than  Mr.  Kelly. 

Mr.  Kelly  mentions  a  baker  who  was  the  moderator  at  the  cele- 
brated Robin  Society,  which  was  held  in  Butcher-row,  St.  Clement's. 
He  says  that  his  name  was  Tarcombe,  but  I  understood  from  my 
father  that  it  was  Jacocks,  and,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  I  saw  it 
over  his  door  at  his  shop  near  the  west  end  of  Monmouth-street.  I 
once  saw  this  person,  who  was  one  of  the  most  dignified  men  I  ever 
beheld.  He  was  a  tall  and  a  large  man  of  a  very  grave  aspect.  He 
was,  I  understood,  remarkably  skilful  in  summing  up  the  debates  at 
the  speaking-club  above  mentioned,  and  in  weighing  and  commenting 
on  the  arguments  of  the  several  speakers.  Some  of  the  first  charac- 
ters of  the  country  were  frequenters  of  this  club ;  and  the  great  Lord 
Chesterfield  declared,  that  he  considered  Jacocks  as  fully  qualified  to 
be  a  prime  minister.  Such  a  man,  therefore,  deserves  a  better  record 
than  I  can  give  to  his  memory. 

I  cannot  take  a  final  leave  of  my  friend  Michael  Kelly  without  ex- 
pressing my  sincere  regret  that  his  harmless  and  pleasant  life  should 
have  passed  during  some  years  before  his  death  in  so  lamentable  a 
state,  from  the  effects  of  the  gout,  as  to  render  him  wholly  unable  to 
move  without  assistance  ;  yet  when  once  seated  at  a  convivial  table, 
as  I  have  seen  him  at  that  of  the  late  Dr.  Kitchiner,  his  vivacity  never 
deserted  him,  and  he  was  ready  to  entertain  the  company  by  his  good- 
humour,  his  anecdotes,  and  his  musical  talents. 

It  should  be  mentioned,  injustice  to  Mr.  Kelly,  that  he  retained  the 
most  affectionate  remembrance  of  Mrs.  Crouch  till  his  last  moments  ; 
and  knowing  that  I  had  been  acquainted  with  her  long  before  she 
appeared  in  public,  he  seemed  to  feel  a  melancholy  pleasure  in  impart- 
ing his  feelings  to  me.  I  knew  her  father  and  brother.  The  former 
held  a  situation  in  the  Castle  at  Dublin  ;  the  latter,  a  very  handsome 
man  and  an  excellent  singer,  was  a  major  in  the  British  army. 

Michael  Kelly  was  so  much  in  favour  with  his  late  majesty  George 
the  Fourth,  that  he  annually  received  from  that  lamented  monarch 
100Z.  as  a  contribution  to  his  benefit.  If  Kelly  "  was  not  witty  in 
himself,"  his  facetious  blunders  were  "  the  cause  of  wit  in  others ;"  but 
his  temper  was  so  good,  that  he  never  was  offended  at  the  liberties 
taken  with  him,  but  attempted  to  retort  their  raillery,  and  generally 
gave  fresh  occasion  for  more  sportive  sallies  on  his  ludicrous  mistakes. 
There  were  latent  seeds  of  judgment  in  his  mind,  derived  from  long 
and  varied  experience  in  several  countries  ;  and  amid  all  his  humours 
and  eccentricities,  his  opinion  might  be  safely  consulted  in  matters  of 
importance. 


MRS.  HORREBOW. 


309 


On  one  occasion,  when  Mr.  John  Kemble  was  grave  and  silent, 
after  many  persons  had  expressed  their  sentiments  on  a  particular 
subject,  and  Kemble  appeared  in  dumb  solemnity,  Kelly  turned 
towards  him,  and  aptly  applied  the  words  of  Hamlet, "  Come,  Kemble, 
*  open  thy  ponderous  and  marble  jaws,'  and  give  us  your  opinion." 

Mrs.  Horrebow,  whom  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  many 
years,  is  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Crouch.  She  was  at  Culcutta  as  an  actress, 
and  was  acquainted  with  my  brother,  who  died  at  that  place.  When 
I  once  dined  with  her  at  Mr.  Kelly's,  she  related  the  following  story, 
which  I  insert,  as  it  holds  forth  a  proper  lesson  to  pride,  affectation, 
and  hypocrisy. 

When  Mrs.  Horrebow  returned  to  this  country,  there  was  a  gentle- 
man and  his  niece  passengers  in  the  same  ship.  His  name,  I  think, 
was  Dawson.  They  intimated  to  the  captain  that  they  did  not  con- 
sider it  proper  that  an  actress  should  be  permitted  to  dine  at  the  same 
table  with  them,  as  the  profession  of  an  actress  was  generally  marked 
by  suspicion,  if  not  profligate  conduct.  The  captain  opposed  this 
illiberal  intimation,  and  observed  that  as  Mrs.  Horrebow  was  lively, 
intelligent,  agreeable,  and  polite  in  her  manners,  he  could  not 
think  of  excluding  her  from  the  table.  It  appeared  that  a  few  days 
after,  one  of  the  passengers  had  the  curiosity  to  peep  through  the  key- 
hole of  the  cabin  assigned  to  the  uncle  and  niece,  and  there  beheld  a 
scene  by  no  means  consistent  with  the  relation  between  them,  and  the 
scrupulous  delicacy  which  they  had  assumed.  This  curious  person 
disclosed  what  he  saw  to  the  captain,  who  mentioned  it  to  the  other 
passengers.  On  the  day  following  at  dinner,  some  of  the  company, 
who  had  supported  the  cause  of  Mrs.  Horrebow,  hinted  at  the  fasti- 
diousness of  those  who  objected  to  the  theatrical  profession,  and  yet 
were  guilty  in  private  life  of  greater  immoralities  than  were  or  could 
be  represented  on  the  stage.  Other  hints  of  a  similar  kind  were 
thrown  out,  and  some  too  direct  to  be  mistaken  by  the  parties  to  whom 
they  alluded.  The  gentleman  and  his  niece  were  evidently  disturbed 
by  these  pointed  references,  and  suddenly  withdrew.  Not  appearing 
on  the  following  day  when  the  company  assembled  at  breakfast,  a 
message  was  sent  to  them,  but,  no  answer  having  been  returned,  it 
was  determined,  after  a  consultation,  to  have  the  door  broken  open. 
On  gaining  entrance,  a  lamentable  scene  was  presented  in  the  dead 
bodies  of  the  uncle  and  niece,  both  of  whom  had  been  shot,  but  the 
sound  of  pistols  had  not  been  heard  during  the  night,  probably  owing 
to  the  roar  of  the  ocean.  A  melancholy  warning  to  those  who  affect 
to  be  il  righteous  over-much." 

03 


310 


RECORDS  OF   MY  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XLtV. 

George  Cooke,  the  actor.  I  knew  this  person  when  we  were 
boys  together.  He  was  two  or  three  years  my  senior.  He  was  a 
heavy-looking  lubberly  boy,  and  the  last  person  I  should  have  expected 
to  turn  his  attention  to  the  stage,  particularly  to  the  assumption  of 
heroic  characters.  A  fire  happened  at  Rotherhithe,  which  was  ex- 
tensively destructive.  George  Cooke  and  myself  went  together  to 
Wandsworth  Common,  to  a  lady  who  resided  there,  to  whom  Cooke's 
mother  was  distantly  related,  and  to  whom  a  lady  intimately  connect- 
ed with  my  family  was  also  related,  and  then  upon  a  visit.  The  lady 
of  the  mansion  was  a  spinster,  much  advanced  in  years  :  her  name  was 
Dunwell,  and  she  inherited  the  house  in  question  and  the  fortune  of 
her  cousin,  Mr.  White,  who  had  been  dead  some  years.  He  was,  I 
was  told,  one  of  the  reading  clerks  to  the  House  of  Lords,  and,  by 
all  accounts,  a  very  amiable  and  intelligent  man.  He  was  known  in 
the  higher  literary  circles  of  his  time,  and  frequently  dined  at  Lord 
Oxford's  in  company  with  Lord  Bolingbroke.  Pope,  and  the  usual 
visitants  at  his  lordship's  table. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Mr.  White,  whenever  he  returned  from  any 
of  the  dinners  at  Lord  Oxford's  or  elsewhere,  to  insert  in  a  book  all 
the  anecdotes  and  remarks  which  had  been  made  by  any  of  the  com- 
pany ;  and  he  always  annexed  the  name  of  the  person  who  had  related 
the  anecdote  or  made  the  remark.  The  book  was  nearly  full  of  these 
memorials.  Miss  Dunwell  died,  and  left  the  mansion  and  her  fortune 
to  the  lady  whom  I  have  mentioned  as  being  upon  a  visit  when  Cooke 
and  I  went  to  communicate  the  melancholy  intelligence  of  the  fire 
which  had  destroyed  the  house  in  Rotherhithe  where  that  lady  had 
resided.  The  manuscript  book  was  lent  to  me,  and  I  remember  to 
have  read  in  it  most  of  the  anecdotes  which  I  have  since  found  in  the 
posthumous  work  of  Mr.  Spence. 

As  Mr.  White  was  dead,  and  there  was  no  person  in  the  family  of  a 
literary  turn,  the  book  was  little  regarded,  and  I  might,  as  the  phrase 
is,  have  "  had  it  for  asking ;"  but  at  that  time  I  was  insensible  of  its 
value. 

On  the  death  of  Miss  Dunwell,  as  the  lady  who  succeeded  to  her 
possessions  was  a  particular  friend  of  my  family,  and  the  godmother 
of  one  of  my  brothers,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  house,  and 
remaining  there  for  some  days.  There  was  a  good  library,  without 
any  parade  of  binding,  and  some  excellent  Flemish  pictures  in  the 
drawing-room.  The  dining-parlour  contained  portraits  of  Lord  Rad- 
nor, Mr.  Wilmington,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick,  friends  of  Mr.  White,  as 
well  as  a  portrait  of  that  gentleman.  As  far  as  I  can  presume  to 
judge  of  these  portraits  from  recollection,  compared  with  the  know- 


GEORGE  COOKE. 


311 


ledge  which  I  have  since  derived  from  long  experience  in  subjects  of 
the  fine  arts,  they  were  well  painted  in  oil,  of  the  kit-cat  size.  Those 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick  were  in  crayons,  and  I  afterward  saw  them 
in  the  possession  of  my  father's  old  friend  Mr.  Mynors,  the  surgeon, 
of  Chancery-lane,  who  has  been  dead  many  years,  and  I  know  not 
what  became  of  them :  they  were  painted  by  Vispre,  who  put  his 
name  to  them.  They  must  have  been  painted  in  the  meridian  of  the 
lives  of  Garrick  and  his  wife,  and  were  admirable  likenesses. 

George  Cooke's  mother  had  a  legacy  left  her  by  Mrs.  Dunwell. 
Mrs.  Cooke  was  a  crazy  old  woman,  and  much  annoyed  the  late  Rev. 
Mr.  Harpur,  one  of  the  executors.  Mr.  Harpur  was  one  of  the  offi- 
cers of  the  British  Museum.  Mrs.  Cooke  frequently  called  on  him, 
and  demanded  her  legacy,  which  he  could  not  pay  till  certain  legal 
forms  gave  him  authority.  On  one  of  her  visits,  the  unfortunate  state 
of  her  mind  was  too  evident,  and  was  attended  with  melancholy  con- 
sequences. While  Mr.  Harpur  and  his  wife  were  sitting  at  break- 
fast, Mrs.  Cooke  suddenly  burst  into  the  room,  and  in  a  vehement 
manner  demanded  the  corpse  of  her  son,  accusing  Mr.  Harpur  of 
having  murdered  him.  Mrs.  Harpur  was  in  a  very  declining  state  of 
health  at  the  time,  and  knowing  nothing  of  Mrs.  Cooke,  was  much 
shocked  at  the  violence  of  her  manner,  and  the  horrid  crime  imputed 
to  her  husband.  Mr.  Harpur,  who  was  a  very  sensible  man,  with 
great  presence  of  mind,  feeling  for  the  agitation  of  his  wife,  quietly 
told  Mrs.  Cooke  that  she  had  not  taken  the  right  course  in  order  to 
recover  the  body  of  her  son,  and  to  bring  his  murderer  to  justice. 
"  You  should  go,"  said  he, "  to  Sir  John  Fielding's  office  in  Bow-street, 
accuse  me  of  the  murder,  and  he  will  send  his  officers  to  bring  me  to 
justice.  I  shall  then  be  tried  for  the  crime,  and  punished  if  I  am 
found  guilty."  "  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Cooke,  "  1  will  do  so  immediately," 
and  quietly  departed. 

Mr.  Harpur  took  especial  care  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  such  an 
outrageous  intrusion ;  but  the  shock  which  Mrs.  Harpur  suffered  in 
her  declining  state  was  thought  to  have  hastened  her  end.  I  learned 
this  circumstance  from  Mr.  Harpur,  with  whom  I  had  afterward  the 
pleasure  of  being  well  acquainted.  He  was  a  remarkably  well-bred 
gentleman,  of  the  Chesterfield  school. 

The  inconsistent  and  extravagant  conduct  of  George  Cooke  may, 
perhaps,  be  not  improperly  traced  to  the  mental  infirmity  of  his 
mother.  Very  many  years  had  elapsed  before  I  heard  any  thing 
more  of  him  than  that  he  had  been  apprenticed  to  a  printer  at  Ber- 
wick-upon-Tweed. Hearing  that  a  Mr.  Cooke  had  acquired  high 
provincial  reputation  as  an  actor,  and  that  he  had  been  a  printer,  I 
began  to  think  he  might  be  the  person  I  had  known  when  a  boy. 

Understanding  that  he  was  engaged  at  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and 
that  he  was  to  rehearse  the  part  of  King  Richard  on  a  certain  morn- 
ing, I  asked  my  friend  the  late  Mr.  Lewis,  the  great  comic  actor  of 
his  time,  and  who  was  then  the  stage-manager,  permission  to  attend 
the  rehearsal ;  and  he  readily  consented.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I 
could  trace  the  lubberly  boy  whom  I  had  formerly  known,  through  the 


312 


RECORDS  OF   MY  LIFE. 


great  alteration  of  his  person.  At  the  end  of  the  rehearsal,  still 
doubtful,  I  addressed  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  recollected  to  have 
known  such  a  person  as  myself.  He  remembered  our  intercourse, 
but  declared  I  was  so  much  altered  that  he  should  not  have  known 
me.  I  attended  his  first  appearance  in  the  character  of  Richard  the 
Third,  and  sat  with  Mr.  Sergeant  Shepherd,  now  Sir  Samuel,  a  gentle- 
man who  was  held  in  the  highest  respect  and  esteem  by  his  brethren 
at  the  bar,  which,  however,  he  was  obliged  to  abandon  on  account  of 
deafness.*  I  had  the  pleasure  to  find  that  Mr.  Shepherd  concurred 
with  me  in  my  opinion  of  Cooke's  theatrical  merit.  We  agreed  that 
he  showed  a  shrewd  reflecting  mind,  but  that  his  manner  was  rough, 
coarse,  and  clumsy.  The  house  was  not  well  attended:  he  was, 
however,  well  received.  Mr.  Kemble  sat  with  his  wife  in  the  front 
boxes,  and  was  very  liberal  without  being  ostentatious  in  his  ap- 
plause. 

Cooke  was  strong,  but  coarse.  He  had  not  the  advantage  of  much 
education,  but  had  a  shrewd  penetrating  mind,  was  well  acquainted 
with  human  nature,  and  was  powerful  in  those  characters  for  which 
his  talents  were  adapted,  and  they  were  chiefly  of  the  villanous. 
He  thought  of  nothing  but  the  indulgence  of  his  passions,  particularly 
devoting  himself  to  the  bottle.  I  found  him  one  night  in  the  green- 
room during  his  performance  so  much  affected  by  liquor,  that  he  was 
unfit  to  appear  before  the  audience.  He  seemed  to  be  melancholy, 
and  when  I  asked  him  the  cause,  he  said  he  had  just  heard  that  Mr. 
Kemble  had  become  a  partner  in  the  theatre.  "  Of  course,"  said  he. 
"  I  shall  be  deprived  of  my  characters.  There  is  nobody  but  Black 
Jack  whom  I  fear  to  encounter."  1  assured  him  that  he  mistook  Mr. 
Kemble,  who  knew  his  value  too  well  to  deprive  him  of  any  part. 
"  For  his  interest,"  said  I,  "  he  would  rather  bring  you  more  forward. 
He  will  revive  1  Antony  and  Cleopatra,'  he  will  be  Antony,  you 
Ventidius.  He  will  be  Othello,  you  Pierre ;  you  Richard,  he  the 
Prince  of  Wales  ;  you  Shylock,  he  Bassanio  ;"  and  1  mentioned  other 
parts  in  which  they  might  cordially  co-operate.  These  remarks 
cheered  him,  and  he  said,  "  If  so,  we  will  drive  the  world  before  us." 
In  the  mean  time,  I  plied  him  with  tumblers  of  water,  and  lessened 
the  effect  of  the  liquor,  recommending  forbearance  of  the  bottle. 
He  thanked  me,  and  promised  to  take  my  advice,  went  home,  im- 
mediately returned  to  his  wine,  and  was  rendered  so  ill  that  he  was 
confined  to  his  bed  the  two  following  days. 

Mr.  Usher,  the  actor.  This  gentleman  was  respected  for  his 
literary  talents,  and  according  to  report,  was  the  author  of  an  elegant 
little  tract,  entitled  "  Clio,  or  a  Discourse  on  Taste,"  which  f  re- 
member to  have  read  in  early  life,  and  which  afforded  me  pleasure 
and  instruction.  It  was  afterward,  I  understood,  much  enlarged,  and 
approved  by  the  critics  of  the  time.  He  never  rose  to  eminence  in 
his  profession,  but  the  parts  assigned  to  him  he  always  supported  with 

*  Sir  Samuel  Shepherd's  father  was  a  respectable  tradesman  in  Cornhill,  and 
much  esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him.  ^ 


USHER  JOHN  PALMER. 


313 


judgment,  and  was  particularly  attentive  to  dumb  show,  constantly 
exhibiting  by  his  action  a  feeling  correspondent  with  that  of  the  inter- 
locution in  the  scenes  in  which  he  appeared.  He  seemed  to  be  of  a 
very  reserved  disposition,  and,  instead  of  mingling  in  the  green-room 
with  the  rest  of  the  performers,  always  retired  to  the  back  of  the 
stage  during  the  intervals  of  his  performance.  Hence  one  of  the  per- 
formers designated  him  by  the  title  of  "  The  Recluse  of  the  Lake," 
the  name  of  a  novel  that  had  then  been  recently  published  ;  and  this 
title  was  afterward  generally  applied  to  him. 

I  was  acquainted  with  him,  and  held  him  in  great  respect,  though 
his  station  on  the  stage  was  always  of  a  very  subordinate  description. 
I  found  him  modest,  attentive,  and  intelligent.  He  had  a  daughter, 
who  was  a  provincial  actress  of  some  repute,  but  I  believe  she  never 
made  her  way  to  the  London  boards.  I  knew  her  also  for  a  short 
time  while  she  resided  in  London,  and  considered  her  as  a  very  sensi- 
ble woman.  She  was  much  too  unwieldy  for  the  stage  when  I  knew 
her.  I  presume  that  they  have  long  since  made  their  exit  from  the 
mortal  stage. 

Considering  Mr.  Usher  as  a  literary  man,  he  may  be  considered  as 
having  devised  a  strange  expedient  for  the  improvement  of  his  fortune. 
He  purchased  a  great  number  of  wheelbarrows,  which  he  let  every 
day  to  the  itinerant  daughters  of  Pomona,  who  drive  these  carriages 
through  the  streets  of  London.  They  were  obliged  to  return  these 
vehicles  every  night  and  pay  for  their  hire.  What  space  he  had  to 
dispose  of  these  travelling  machines  on  their  nocturnal  return,  I  never 
knew  ;  but,  according  to  report,  he  lost  so  many  of  them  by  the  dis- 
honesty of  these  fair  votaries  of  the  goddess  of  vegetable  luxuries, 
that  he  abandoned  the  scheme  as  a  ruinous  speculation. 

Mr.  John  Palmer,  the  actor.  This  was  an  extraordinary  per- 
former, and  the  best  I  have  seen  in  the  characters  for  which  he  was 
peculiarly  adapted,  such  as  Brush  in  the  "  Clandestine  Marriage," 
Brass,  or  Dick,  in  "  The  Confederacy."  I  have  seen  him  play  both 
admirably.  His  Henry  the  Eighth  was  an  excellent  performance. 
He  could  also  support  characters  of  manly  sensibility,  such  as  Syden- 
ham in  "  The  Wheel  of  Fortune,"  a  character  which  he  rendered  so 
prominent,  even  with  Mr.  Kemble's  Penruddock,  that  the  former 
character  sunk  into  insignificance  on  Palmers  death.  His  "  Joseph 
Surface"  was  understood  to  have  been  written  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  as  a 
delineation  of  Palmer's  real  character. 

Mr.  Palmer  was  certainly  not  calculated  for  the  higher  characters 
of  the  drama,  but  perhaps  it  would  be  impossible  to  excel,  or  even  to 
rival  him  in  those  that  were  suitable  to  his  talents  and  qualifications. 
I  once  saw  him  attempt  Macbeth,  but  was  much  disappointed  ;  and  in 
my  opinion,  he  was  equally  unsuccessful  in  FalstafF;  though  he  was 
by  no  means  deficient  in  humour,  yet  it  did  not  rise  to  a  level  with 
that  of  the  facetious  knight. 

Mr.  Palmer  was  always  silent  in  company,  but  he  compensated 
by  his  expressive  gestures  for  his  taciturnity.  I  once  dined  in  com- 
pany with  him  at  the  late  Dr.  Arnold's.    George  Colman  the  younger 


314 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


was  pre  *mt,  and  where  he  is  there  can  be  no  want  of  lively  sallies. 
There  were  other  clever  men  present,  and  wit  and  humour  abounded. 
Though  Palmer  was  silent,  he  was  attentive,  and  his  expressions  of 
surprise,  admiration,  and  pleasure,  as  the  repartees  flew  from  each 
person,  enabled  him  to  fill  the  scene  as  well,  and  with  as  much  satis- 
faction to  the  company,  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  most  active 
speakers. 

Having  so  fine  and  commanding  a  person,  he  was  a  great  favourite 
of  the  ladies,  and  had  a  high  character  for  gallantry.  Being  upon 
familiar  terms  with  him,  when  I  once  saw  him  knock  at  a  door  in 
Great  Pulteney-street,  I  shook  my  head  in  order  to  indicate  that  I 
thought  he  was  on  some  gallant  pursuit.  Instead  of  asking  what  I 
meant,  as  a  man  innocent  of  the  implied  suspicion  would  naturally 
have  done,  he  said,  "  I  live  here  f  and  when  I  gave  another  doubtful 
shake  of  the  head,  he  said,  u  Upon  my  word,  my  family  are  up-stairs ;" 
and  he  parted  with  me  in  good-humour,  acknowledging  that  rumour 
had  given  me  just  grounds  for  my  suspicion. 

But  comic  characters  were  not  the  only  ones  to  which  he  rendered 
ample  justice.  He  could  not,  indeed,  as  I  have  observed,  perform 
the  higher  parts  of  tragedy.  His  Macbeth  did  not  display  powers  of 
suitable  elevation,  but  his  Macduff  was  very  impressive ;  and  on  his 
death  Mrs.  Siddons,  speaking  of  his  merits,  said  to  me,  "  Where  shall 
we  again  find  a  Villeroy  and  a  Stukely  V  He  was  indeed  admira- 
ble in  both  of  those  characters,  particularly  in  the  former,  chaste,  dig- 
nified, and  interesting. 

Mr.  Kean.  Having  given  some  account  of  the  theatrical  per- 
formers who  have  fallen  within  my  notice,  beginning  with  Mr.  Gar- 
rick,  it  might  reasonably  be  thought  strange  if  I  said  nothing  of  so 
very  conspicuous  a  character  in  the  theatrical  world  as  Mr.  Kean. 
The  truth  is,  that  I  never  could  perceive  in  him  those  high  professional 
merits  which  the  public  have  not  only  evidently,  but  most  fervently 
acknowledged.  I  was  unwilling  to  oppose  my  humble  opinion  to  the 
public  judgment ;  and,  as  a  public  critic,  I  deemed  it  cruelty  to  attack 
a  man  in  his  profession,  even  if  I  could  possibly  have  persuaded  my- 
self that  my  weak  censure  might  do  him  an  injury.  Such  has  been 
always  my  rule  in  writing  theatrical  critiques,  either  on  performers 
or  dramatic  authors. 

I  saw  Mr.  Kean  on  his  first  performance  in  London.  The  part 
was  Shy  lock,  and  it  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  favourable  specimen  of 
what  might  be  expected  from  a  provincial  performer,  but  1  could  not 
see  any  of  those  striking  merits  which  have  since  appeared  to  the  pub- 
lic ;  and,  finding  in  his  progress  that  his  fame  increased  without  any 
apparent  improvement,  in  my  humble  judgment,  and,  as  I  before  ob- 
served, reluctant  to  oppose  public  opinion,  I  avoided,  as  much  as  was 
consistent  with  the  duty  of  a  public  journalist,  to  notice  his  performances. 
But  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  vanity  in  saying,  that  I  found  my 
silence  in  public,  and  my  observations  in  private,  had  brought  upon  me 
the  imputation  of  being  an  enemy  to  Mr.  Kean.  I  should  be  shocked, 
indeed,  if  I  felt  conscious  that  I  deserved  such  an  imputation.    As  a 


KEAN — HENRY  AND  G.  S.  CAREY. 


315 


proof,  however,  that  such  a  suspicion  had  gained  ground,  I  dined  once 
with  my  old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Pascoe  Grenfell,  M.  P.  at  his  house 
in  Spring  Gardens,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kean  were  of  the  party,  and 
I  heard  afterward  that  Mrs.  Kean,  a  lady  by  no  means  unwilling  to 
communicate  her  sentiments,  had  expressed  her  surprise,  either  to 
Mr.  Grenfell  himself,  or  to  one  of  the  company,  that  Mr.  Taylor  should 
be  invited  to  the  same  table  with  Mr.  Kean.  I  happened  to  sit  next 
to  Mr.  Kean  at  dinner,  and  paid  him  particular  attention,  to  obviate, 
or  soften  any  unpleasing  feeling  on  his  part,  and  endeavoured  to  enter 
into  conversation  with  him  on  dramatic  subjects ;  but,  though  he  con- 
ducted himself  with  politeness,  he  seemed  of  a  reserved  and  taciturn 
habit,  yet  without  the  least  indication  that  he  thought  himself  near  a 
person  inimical  to  his  fame.  I  have  since  seen  Mr.  Kean  in  most,  if 
not  all,  of  his  theatrical  exhibitions,  and  I  can  even  solemnly  declare 
that  I  went  for  the  purpose  of  enlightening  my  mind  by  the  public 
judgment,  but  unfortunately  my  opinion  remained  precisely  the  same  ; 
1  say  unfortunately,  for  otherwise  I  should  have  received  from  his 
acting  the  same  pleasure  which  the  public  have  enjoyed. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  thought  that  I  am  biased  by  my  recollection  of 
Garrick,  whom  1  saw  in  many  of  his  performances  when  I  was  twenty 
and  twenty-one  years  of  age.  If  so,  I  cannot  but  admit  the  charge, 
since  I  am  supported  by  the  testimony  of  the  best  authors  and  critics 
of  his  time,  as  well  as  by  the  opinion  of  all  his  theatrical  contempo- 
raries. Far  from  feeling  a  prejudice  against  Mr.  Kean,  I  should  have 
been  happy  in  joining  with  the  million  in  admiration  of  his  abilities,  as 
he  is  the  grandson  of  an  old  and  long-esteemed  friend  of  mine,  Mr. 
George  Saville  Carey.  And  here  let  me  stop  to  pay  a  tribute  of  re- 
spect to  the  memory  of  a  very  worthy  man,  and  a  man  of  real  genius. 

George  Saville  Carey  was  the  son  of  Henry  Carey,  a  very  popular 
dramatic  author,  but  more  particularly  known  for  his  fertility  in  song- 
writing.  His  "  Sally  of  our  Alley"  has  been  long  a  favourite  ballad ; 
he  was  the  author  of  "  Chrononhotonthologos,"  and  other  dramas 
popular  at  the  time  ;  and  is  mentioned  in  Dr.  Johnson's  "  Life  of  Ad- 
dison" as  one  of  Addison's  most  intimate  friends.  His  son,  my  old 
friend,  laboured  to  prove  that  his  father  was  the  author  of  the  words 
and  music  of  what  has  been  styled  the  national  anthem,  "  God  save 
great  George  our  King." 

Henry  Carey  was  a  musician  as  well  as  a  dramatic  writer,  but  being, 
like  too  many  of  the  literary  fraternity,  improvident,  and  careless  of 
the  future,  he  was  reduced  to  despair,  and  hanged  himself  on  the  ban- 
nister of  the  stairs  where  he  resided.  A  single  halfpenny  was  all  that 
was  found  in  his  pocket ;  and  it  came  into  the  possession  of  my  father's 
old  friend,  Mr.  Brooke,  whom  I  have  before  mentioned,  and  who  kept 
it  as  a  mournful  relic  of  departed  friendship. 

George  Saville  Carey,  I  believe,  had  no  recollection  of  his  unfor- 
tunate father,  though  he  cherished  his  memory,  and  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  his  works.  The  son,  it  is  said,  was  originally  appren- 
ticed to  a  printer,  but  he  soon  adopted  the  theatrical  profession,  with 
however  so  little  success  that  he  became  a  sort  of  public  orator  and 


316 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


mimic,  in  which  capacity  I  became  acquainted  with  him  early  in  my 
life.  He  was  chiefly  a  mimic  of  the  theatrical  performers  of  that  time, 
but  introduced  many  odd  characters  in  his  miscellaneous  compositions, 
which  he  publicly  recited.  I  remember  to  have  heard  him  deliver  his 
recitations  at  Marylebone  Gardens,  now  covered  with  elegant  man- 
sions. Like  his  father,  he  was  a  musical  performer,  and  accompanied 
himself  with  skill  and  taste  on  the  guitar. 

As  the  nature  of  his  profession  induced  him  to  lead  an  itinerant  life, 
1  never  knew  when  or  where  he  died,  but  have  reason  to  fear  not  in 
prosperous  circumstances.  He  wrote  many  songs  and  other  poetical 
productions ;  but  as  he  kept  them  in  reserve  as  instruments  of  his 
calling,  I  only  know  them  as  he  recited  them  in  public,  or  to  me  when 
he  called  on  me.  I  only  knew  of  his  death  when  his  daughter,  whom 
I  understood  to  be  the  mother  of  Mr.  Kean,  called  on  me  to  sell  some 
musical  productions  of  her  deceased  father  ;  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  that  child  accompanied  her  who  was  destined  to  become 
the  most  popular  and  attractive  actor  of  his  day. 

I  have  introduced  these  circumstances,  merely  to  show  that  I  had 
more  reason  to  be  the  friend  of  Mr.  Kean  than  to  be  adverse  to  his 
talents. 

1  will  venture  to  say  a  few  words  respecting  Mr.  Kean  as  an  actor. 
He  had  the  sagacity  to  perceive  that  there  were  many  points  and 
passages  in  dramatic  characters  which  performers  in  general  passed 
negligently  over  in  their  endeavours  to  support  the  whole  of  the  part, 
but  which  admitted  of  strong  expression.  These  points  and  passages 
Mr.  Kean  seized  upon,  and  brought  forth,  sometimes  with  archness, 
and  often  with  a  fiery  emotion  which  made  a  strong  impression  on 
the  audience,  and  essentially  contributed  to  his  extraordinary  success. 
That  he  performs  with  great  energy  must  be  readily  admitted, 
and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  will  inoculate  some  of  his  professional 
brethren  with  the  same  fervour. 

Here  I  conclude  my  observations  on  Mr.  Kean,  heartily  rejoicing 
at  his  prosperity,  as  he  is  the  grandson  of  my  old  friend,  and  as  he  is 
well  known  to  be  a  liberal-minded  man,  and  ready  to  manifest  a  gen- 
erous zeal  to  assist  any  of  the  theatrical  community  who  fall  into 
distress. 

It  may  be  mentioned  among  the  extraordinary  vicissitudes  of  life, 
that  when  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  in  his  almost  idolatrous  admira- 
tion of  Shakspeare,  during  his  management  of  Drury-lane  theatre, 
performed  Macbeth,  he  introduced  the  children  according  to  a  pas- 
sage in  the  play  as  spirits — 

Black  spirits  and  white, 

Red  spirits  and  gray, 
Mingle,  mingle,  mingle, 

You  that  mingle  may. 

Mr.  Kean  figured  as  one  of  those  spirits,  and  was  afterward  des- 
tined to  perform  the  royal  usurper  himself  on  those  very  boards,  and 
to  draw  popularity  from  that  other  great  tragedian.    Mr.  Kemble  did 


KEAN  BARRYMORE. 


317 


not  consider  that  his  own  grave  taste  might  on  such  an  occasion  differ 
from  that  of  the  majority  of  the  audience,  to  whom  the  comic  caper- 
ing of  the  infantile  band  had  a  most  ludicrous  appearance,  as,  indeed, 
happened  to  be  the  case. 

At  this  time  Mr.  Kean,  being  weak  in  his  legs,  was  obliged  to  have 
them  supported  by  iron  props.  My  friend  George  Colman  the  younger, 
having  seen  the  boy  in  this  situation,  and  to  whose  ready  wit  and  hu- 
mour I,  as  well  as  most  of  his  friends,  have  often  been  a  victim,  said, 
"  Oh  !  I  remember  the  child,  and  I  called  Us  legs  Fetter-lane  sausa- 
ges." 

In  the  same  spirit  of  Shakspearian  idolatry,  Mr.  Kemble,  at  Covent 
Garden  theatre,  had  the  table  in  the  banquet  scene  in  "  As  You  like 
It,"  supported  by  horns  instead  of  wooden-legs,  though  in  a  forest 
wood  might  have  been  deemed  more  convenient  and  sylvan-like  in  its 
appearance.  But  who  can  blame  his  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the 
greatest  dramatic  poet  that  the  world  ever  knew,  and  whose  chief 
characters  afforded  him  scope  for  the  exertion  of  his  talents,  and  the 
attainment  of  his  high  and  well-merited  professional  reputation  ? 

Mr.  Barrymore.  This  actor,  whose  real  name  was  Bluett,  which 
he  abandoned  for  one  that  he  thought  was  more  acceptable  to  the 
public,  was  never  a  great,  but  yet  a  respectable  performer  in  the 
middle  sphere  of  comedy  or  tragedy.  He  was  the  first  Pizarro  in 
Mr.  Sheridan's  translated  and  improved  play  of  that  name. 

Mr.  Barrymore  had  a  good  person,  above  the  middle  stature.  He 
had  always  a  just  conception  of  the  part  which  he  assumed,  and  per- 
formed with  great  spirit,  and  sometimes  perhaps  with  too  much,  in  the 
extreme  ardour  of  his  feelings. 

I  remember  a  ludicrous  instance  which  shows  the  humour  of  Mr. 
Sheridan.  Mr.  Barrymore  performed  the  part  of  Blondell,  in  the 
musical  afterpiece  of  "  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,"  and  displayed  such  an 
excess  of  animation,  that  Mr.  Sheridan  whimsically  observed,  that 
Blondell  seemed  to  be  as  much  surprised  to  find  he  was  Blondell, 
as  the  rest  of  the  dramatic  characters  were  to  hail  him  as  the  friend 
of  the  captive  monarch.  This  idea  pleased  Sheridan  so  much  that  he 
ran  about  the  green-room  while  Barrymore  was  on  the  stage,  exclaim- 
ing in  imitation,  "  I  find  I'm  Blondell — I'm  really  Blondell — Egad, 
I'm  Blondell.  How  strange  !  I'm  Blondell."  When  Barrymore  re- 
turned to  the  green-room,  and  heard  what  had  occurred,  he  was  much 
displeased,  but  Sheridan's  winning  manners  soon  coaxed  him  into 
good-humour. 

Mr.  Barrymore  assured  me  that  he  often  went  dinnerless  into  the 
passages  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  to  secure  a  place  at  an  early  hour 
when  Garrick  performed  ;  and  he  dwelt  with  animation  on  the  excel- 
lence of  that  incomparable  actor.  Mr.  Barrymore  had  for  some  time 
been  unemployed,  but  was  restored  to  the  stage  by  Mr.  John  Kemble, 
during  his  management  of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  he  always 
spoke  of  Mr.  Kemble's  kindness  with  fervent  gratitude. 


318 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Mr.  Bensley.  It  may  be  thought  that  the  same  reason  which 
might  have  prevented  Mr.  Quick  from  venturing  on  the  stage,  would 
have  operated  on  this  gentleman,  viz.,  the  peculiarity  of  his  voice, 
the  tones  of  which  were  grave  and  often  nasal ;  but  he  possessed  a 
good  education  and  a  sound  understanding.  He  was  originally  an 
officer  in  the  marines,  and  was  present  at  the  taking  of  the  Havana. 
He  had  not  only  a  peculiarity  in  his  voice,  but  a  wild  habit  of  rolling 
his  eyes,  and  a  formal  stiffness  in  his  deportment ;  but  his  good  sense 
and  gentlemanly  manners  triumphed  over  all  his  defects,  and  ren- 
dered him  a  deserving  favourite  of  the  public. 

The  stiffness  of  his  gesture,  the  solemnity  of  his  manner,  and  his 
peculiar  tones,  all  operated  in  his  favour  in  the  part  of  Malvolio  ;  and, 
perhaps,  it  may  be  fairly  said,  that  he  could  not  be  excelled  in  that 
character ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  his  Mosca,  in  "  The  Fox,"  was  the 
part  in  which  he  chiefly  shone.  He  was  peculiarly  qualified  for  grave, 
sententious,  and  moral  characters.  He  was  spirited  in  Pierre,  and 
sufficiently  subtle  and  impressive  in  Iago.  His  Prospero  was  a  grave 
and  dignified  performance. 

Before  he  ventured  on  the  stage,  Bensley  was  the  intimate  friend 
of  Churchill,  the  elder  Colman,  Lloyd,  and  Wilkes,  a  proof  that  his 
intellectual  powers  and  attainments  were  not  of  the  common  order. 
In  his  latter  days  he  was  very  intimate  with  the  late  Lord  Torring- 
ton  and  Mr.  Windham,  the  latter  of  whom  induced  him  to  retire 
from  the  stage,  and  procured  for  him  the  situation  of  barrack-master ; 
the  profits  of  which,  with  his  wife's  fortune,  and  his  own  prudence  in 
the  management  of  his  theatrical  income,  enabled  him  to  receive  his 
friends,  and  to  live  like  a  gentleman,  a  character  which  he  uniformly 
maintained  in  private  life.  It  is  lamentable  to  record,  that  towards 
the  decline  of  his  days  his  mental  faculties  decayed,  and  precluded 
him  from  society,  and  even  from  domestic  intercourse,  but  did  not 
disturb  the  serenity  of  his  temper.  A  rich  relation,  of  the  same 
name,  left  him,  according  to  report,  about  5G,000Z. ;  but  this  great 
acquisition,  which  ought  to  have  been  rendered  beneficial  to  him  at 
an  earlier  period,  when  it  was  probably  wanted,  did  not  disturb  the 
placidity  of  his  nature. 

His  wife,  a  very  amiable  lady,  survived  him  many  years,  and  I 
wrote  a  tribute  to  his  memory,  for  which  she  sent  her  thanks  to  me 
as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  truth  of  my  humble  memorial.  His 
connexion  with  this  lady  was  somewhat  romantic.  Seeing  her  in 
danger  of  falling  from  a  restive  horse  at  Bristol,  he  rushed  forward, 
like  an  adventurous  knight-errant,  and  rescued  her  from  peril.  This 
accident  produced  an  acquaintance,  which  was  followed  by  a 
marriage. 


BENSLEY  THE  ELDER  BANNISTER. 


319 


I  think  his  intellectual  malady  must  have  appeared  in  some  degree 
before  it  became  the  object  of  much  notice,  for  I  remember  to  have 
seen  him  standing  in  the  north  piazza  of  Covent  Garden,  staring  for 
some  time  earnestly  at  the  church  clock.  It  was  just  at  the  time 
when  Mr.  Kean  seemed  to  be  the  wonder  of  the  town,  and  by  some 
silly  bigots  was  said  to  excel  Garrick.  I  accosted  him,  and  in  a  brief 
conversation  said,  "I  thought  Garrick  was  the  greatest  actor  the 
world  ever  saw."  "  Who  ever  thought  otherwise  ?"  said  he,  and 
abruptly  departed,  contrary  to  the  gentlemanly  courtesy  which  had 
marked  his  whole  life. 

The  elder  Bannister.  This  actor  was  one  of  my  early  ac- 
quaintances, and  a  more  manly  character  I  never  knew.  He  was 
born  with  a  powerful  frame,  a  strong  constitution,  and  vigorous 
passions.  His  voice  was  powerful,  but  he  was  capable  of  singing 
pathetic  airs.  He  had  a  good  understanding,  and  was  quick  at 
repartee.  Some  of  his  bon-mots  would  have  been  widely  circulated 
and  recorded  if  they  had  come  from  a  character  in  higher  life.  His 
errors  were  the  effects  of  his  passions,  and  these  were  the  progeny 
of  his  vigorous  constitution.  His  social  disposition  led  him  into  habits 
of  dissipation  and  pecuniary  embarrassments,  by  which  the  mind  is 
too  often  led  into  errors,  particularly  when  a  convivial  turn  is  accom- 
panied by  the  companionable  qualities  of  wit  and  humour ;  but  I  am 
persuaded  that  he  never  contracted  a  debt  that  he  did  not  intend 
most  honourably  to  discharge,  relying  on  his  talents  and  reputation 
for  a  certainty  of  engagements. 

I  have  seen  him  in  his  sober  and  in  his  festive  moments.  In  the 
former,  with  a  disposition  to  jocularity,  he  was  always  gentlemanly  in 
his  manners ;  and  when  under  the  influence  of  a  social  glass,  the 
same  disposition  prevailed,  and  as  far  as  my  observation  of  his  char- 
acter enabled  me  to  judge,  he  was  never  in  the  slightest  degree 
inclined  to  be  quarrelsome,  but  rather  to  indulge  more  in  waggery. 

That  he  was  an  affectionate  father  I  have  no  doubt,  and  I  doubt 
not  also  he  found  an  affectionate  son  in  all  his  difficulties ;  thanks  to 
the  filial  regard  and  prudent  wisdom  of  the  latter.  It  is  gratifying 
to  me  to  recollect  that,  whenever  he  met  me,  he  said,  "  I  am  always 
glad  to  meet  you,  as  you  are  a  friend  of  Jack's."  And  so  I  was,  and 
I  should  have  been  very  ungrateful  if  I  had  been  otherwise,  for  I 
have  often  derived  pleasure  from  his  son's  public  talents,  as  well  as 
from  his  hereditary  wit  and  good-humour  in  private  life. 

Charles  Bannister  was  an  excellent  mimic,  and  as  far  as  a  natural 
timidity  would  permit  him,  a  very  good  actor ;  for,  manly  as  his  char- 
acter was,  I  have  been  assured  that  he  felt  an  awe  of  the  public  eye, 
which  he  never  could  entirely  overcome,  and  that  when  he  was  to 
appear  in  a  new  character,  he  walked  upon  the  stage  in  great  agita- 
tion before  the  curtain  was  drawn  up,  and  could  not  subdue  this 
emotion  even  in  parts  most  familiar  to  him.  He  was  more  likely  to 
injure  himself  by  misplaced  confidence,  than  to  injure  anybody  by 
meanness  or  dishonour.  What  he  might  have  been  in  any  other  sta- 
tion or  profession  it  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  difficult  to  say,  for  I  am 


320 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


sure  a  manly  spirit  would  have  been  predominant,  and  generosity,  as 
well  as  wit  and  humour,  would  have  rendered  him  as  conspicuous  as 
his  situation  would  allow.  His  Caliban,  in  the  opinion  of  my  friend 
Gifford,  a  much  better  judge  than  myself,  was  the  most  perfect 
assumption  of  character  that  he  had  ever  witnessed  on  the  stage. 
But,  in  reality,  Charles  Bannister  was  born  for  good-humour  and 
conviviality — 

To  dofF  the  world,  and  bid  it  pass. 

With  all  his  careless  excesses,  he  was  always  designated,  by  those 
who  best  knew  him,  by  the  name  of  "  Honest  Charles  Bannister," — 
a  designation  to  which  I  heartily  subscribe,  when  I  reflect  upon  his 
intrinsic  character,  and  what  affluence  would  have  made  him. 

Mr.  Robert  Palmer.  This  actor  was  very  well  calculated  to 
follow  his  brother  John  in  impudent  footmen,  and  all  characters  of 
that  description,  but  by  no  means  in  the  higher  order  of  comedy. 
He  was  excellent  in  rustic  characters,  and  in  the  representation  of 
inebriety.  He  was  a  very  good-natured  fellow,  and  was  generally 
styled  "  Bob  Palmer."  Though  well  acquainted  with  the  town,  and 
all  its  careless,  if  not  dissipated  characters,  there  was  a  simplicity  in 
his  nature  that  was  somewhat  extraordinary.  At  present  I  remem- 
ber one  instance.  Happening  to  meet  him  one  morning  when  I  had 
seen  a  paragraph  in  the  newspaper,  stating  that  a  Mr.  M.'s  brother 
had  eloped  with  his  wife,  I  asked  him  to  whom  the  article  alluded, 
and  having  told  me  the  name  of  the  injured  party,  he  added,  "  If  a 
brother  of  mine  had  served  me  so,  d — n  me  if  I  would  ever  speak  to 
him  again  !" 

Honest  Bob  had  the  usual  ambition  among  actors  to  appear  in 
characters  for  which  nature  had  not  designed  him,  such  as  grave  and 
sententious  moralists  ;  and  he  once  announced  "  an  attempt  to  per- 
form Falstaff,"  wrhich,  indeed,  was  an  attempt. 

Mr.  John  Quick.  I  have  already  mentioned  this  gentleman,  but 
may  nevertheless  be  allowed  to  say  something  more  of  a  most  excel- 
lent actor  and  a  very  worthy  man,  with  whom  I  have  been  intimate 
many  years,  and  with  wThose  talents  I  have  often  been  gratified. 
Mr.  Quick  is  still  alive,  and  by  his  social  qualities  and  abundant  good- 
humour  is  able  to  delight  those  friends  with  whom  he  associates  in  his 
quiet  retreat  at  Islington.  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him 
for  many  years,  but  in  passing  by  his  house  within  the  last  three,  I 
called  on  him  twice,  and  was  both  times  disappointed. 

Mr.  Quick's  understanding,  talents,  and  knowledge  of  life  would 
have  qualified  him  for  the  highest  characters  of  the  drama,  though 
comedy  was  his  proper  sphere  of  action,  if  nature  had  given  to  him 
a  person  and  voice  suitable  to  the  heroic  province.  There  is  hardly 
any  species  of  character  in  the  comic  drama  which  he  did  not  per- 
sonate with  critical  precision,  as  well  as  with  exuberant  humour,  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  the  parts  of  youthful  gallants,  in  what  is  styled  genteel 
comedy.    Yet  he  could  wTell  assume  characters  of  rank,  such  as 


QUICK— MRS.  BEMBRIDOE. 


321 


ancient  splenetic  barons,  where  pride  and  arrogance  were  essential ; 
but  in  middle  and  lower  life  his  humour  was  always  appropriate  and 
irresistible  in  effect.  He  never  gave  offence  by  indulging  a  luxuri- 
ance of  gayety,  but  was  always  strictly  adherent  to  his  part,  except 
in  such  diverting  decorations  as  were  in  exact  correspondence  with 
it,  and  such  as  the  author  might  expect  in  an  actor  to  give  animation 
to  his  own  design.  In  all  Shakspeare's  clowns  he  fully  executed  the 
conception  of  his  great  author,  and  said  "  no  more  than  was  set  down 
for  him."  His  Dogberry  may  be  said  to  have  been  as  perfect  a  per- 
sonation as  any  ever  represented,  even  by  Garrick.  His  affected 
pity  at  the  ignorance  of  Verges,  while  he  glaringly  exposes  his  own, 
made  the  audience  always  regret  that  the  scene  was  not  longer.  His 
voice  was  so  peculiar,  that  it  seems  strange  it  did  not  originally  deter 
him  from  thinking  of  a  theatrical  life  :  but  he  managed  it  so  well  as 
always  to  render  it  natural  and  correspondent  with  the  part  which  he 
represented.  His  Tony  Lumpkin  was  perfect  in  rustic  bluntness 
and  humour,  nor  wTas  he  less  effective  in  Justice  Woodcock.  His 
misers  were  admirable  and  finished  portraits.  He  wras  no  less  ad- 
mirable in  Touchstone,  exhibiting  a  perfect  conception  of  the  char- 
acter, and  illustrating  it  by  his  own  original  waggery. 

On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  performing  the  part  of  Justice 
Woodcock,  and  Mrs.  Billington  that  of  Rosetta,  the  song  in  which 
she  says,  "  I'll  reward  you  with  a  kiss,"  and  gives  one  to  the  justice, 
was  encored  ;  and  as  he  was  of  course  gratified  by  a  repetition  of  the 
same  favour,  he  came  forward  and  bowed  gratefully  to  the  audience, 
who  were  highly  entertained  by  this  prompt  testimony  of  good-hu- 
mour.   He  liberally  allowed  the  talents  of  his  competitors. 

I  remember  once  asking  his  opinion  of  Shuter,  whom  I  regret  to 
say  that  I  do  not  sufficiently  recollect  as  an  actor,  considering  my 
opportunities.  He  spoke  of  Shuter's  talents  with  the  warmest  pane- 
gyric, and  concluded  with  saying  that  he  wras  "  all  honey." 

Here  I  may  properly  quit  the  theatrical  qualifications  of  my  old 
friend,  and  refer  to  his  private  character.  He  was,  and  I  doubt  not 
is,  the  same  respectable  member  of  society  that  he  always  has  been,  a 
good  husband  and  father.  His  daughter  is  married  to  Mr.  Davenport, 
a  teacher  of  languages,  and  the  author  of  two  valuable  dictionaries, 
one  Italian  and  English  and  the  other  Spanish  and  English.  He  re- 
sides in  Doctors'  Commons,  and,  before  his  advanced  age  disabled 
him,  Mr.  Quick,  since  his  retirement,  used  every  day  to  walk  from 
Islington  to  see  his  daughter,  and  indulge  the  feelings  of  an  affection- 
ate father. 

Mrs.  Bembridge.  In  the  early  part  of  my  life  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  widow  of  this  name.  She  was  the  mother  of  Mr. 
Bembridge,  who  held  a  good  situation  in  the  Army  Pay  Office  for 
many  years,  but  was  dismissed  during  the  time  that  Mr.  Burke  was 
paymaster,  contrary  to  Mr.  Burke's  efforts  to  retain  him  in  his  post. 
Mrs.  Bembridge  was  much  advanced  in  years,  but  retained  good 
bodily  health  and  a  perfect  possession  of  her  intellectual  powers.  I 
was  always  fond  of  associating  with  old  persons,  from  whom  I  ex- 


322 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


pected  to  derive  knowledge ;  and  as  I  listened  with  pleasure  to  this 
lady,  she  took  much  notice  of  me.  Her  connexions  had  been  of  a 
high  order.  I  understood  from  her  that  it  was  the  custom  in  her 
early  days  for  gentlemen  to  take  their  female  friends  with  them  to 
their  tavern  dinners ;  and  she  told  me,  that  upon  an  occasion  of  this 
nature  she  was  present  w7hen  Lord  Bolingbroke,  Pope,  Prior,  and 
other  distinguished  wits  were  of  the  company ;  she  was  introduced 
by  a  near  relation,  being  anxious  to  witness  such  a  scene. 

Soon  after  dinner  a  message  was  delivered  to  Prior,  who  suddenly 
rose  and  was  leaving  the  room.  Pope  asked  him  in  a  low  tone  the 
cause  of  his  quitting  the  company  ;  and  he  answered  softly  that  he 
had  received  a  message  from  Chloe,  who  had  been  arrested,  and  that 
he  w7as  going  to  release  her.  Whether  he  returned  to  the  company 
I  know  not,  or  have  forgotten. 

Many  accounts  have  been  given  of  this  memorable  Chloe,  the 
favourite  of  one  of  our  best  poets  ;  but,  according  to  Mrs.  Bembridge, 
who  professed  to  have  authentic  information,  she  was  the  wife  of  a 
barber  in  Long  Acre,  who  had  by  no  means  a  delicate  sense  of  con- 
jugal purity,  and  thought  he  was  honoured  by  Prior's  patronage  of 
his  wife,  though  probably  not  indifferent  to  a  more  convenient  com- 
pensation. 

Mrs.  Bembridge  informed  me  that  at  a  later  period  she  had  a 
house  at  Twickenham,  so  near  to  that  of  Pope's  that  their  gardens 
were  close  to  each  other.  She  had  no  intercourse  with  her  neigh- 
bour, but  was  one  day  surprised  by  a  note  from  Mr.  Pope,  importing 
that,  with  her  consent,  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  taking  tea  with 
her.  She  of  course  signified  that  she  should  be  proud  of  the  honour 
of  receiving  him.  He  came,  and  desired  to  take  a  walk  in  her  gar- 
den. The  lady  accompanied  him,  and,  as  he  was  attracted  by  some 
object,  he  advanced  a  few  steps  before  her,  but  suddenly  turned  and 
said,  "  Madam,  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,  you  had  a  shocking  pros- 
pect before  you,"  obviously  alluding  to  the  deformity  of  his  person. 
"  Ah,  Master  Taylor,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  it  was  then  I  felt  my  de- 
ficiency ;  I  wanted  to  say  something  about  the  honour  of  having  a 
visiter  of  his  genius  and  fame,  but  I  could  only  blush  and  look  foolish/' 

Mrs.  Bembridge  described  Mr.  Pope  as  having  been  very  talkative 
at  the  tavern  dinner  mentioned  before  ;  but  that  Lord  Bolingbroke 
was  reserved,  though  attentive  to  all  that  passed,  and  at  times  cast 
around  him  such  penetrating  glances  as  were  calculated  to  excite  awe 
wherever  they  were  directed.  Mrs.  Bembridge  must  have  been  a 
very  handsome  woman,  judging  from  the  interesting  remains  of  her 
person  when  I  knew  her. 

Dr.  Monsey  told  me,  that  in  paying  a  visit  one  morning  to  a  noble- 
man, whose  name  I  do  not  remember,  as  he  was  chatting  and  stand- 
ing by  the  fire,  a  little  man,  who  wf.s  sitting  near,  made  such  shrewd 
comments  on  what  passed  as  he  was  unable  to  answer,  and  that  he 
soon  after  left  the  room,  wondering  who  this  mean-looking  clever 
man  could  be  ;  upon  inquiring  of  the  porter,  when  he  quitted  the 
house,  Monsey  was  told  that  it  was  Mr.  Pope.    The  doctor  said  he 


ANECDOTE  OF  SHAKSPEARE. 


323 


was  ready  to  bite  his  tongue  off  for  having  taken  leave,  as  he  had 
been  anxious  to  get  into  company  with  the  great  poet,  but  never  saw 
him  after.  As  the  doctor  was  so  free  in  his  manners  with  persons 
of  all  ranks,  it  was  very  strange  that  he  did  not  invent  some  excuse 
to  return  to  the  room,  as  he  was  one  of  Pope's  warmest  admirers, 
and  very  often  quoted  from  his  works. 

Mrs.  Bembridge  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  White,  reading 
clerk  to  the  House  of  Lords.  1  had  read  a  manuscript  book  written 
by  Mr.  White,  in  which  he  had  made  minutes  of  all  he  had  heard  at 
the  tables  of  Lord  Bolingbroke,  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  and  other  great 
houses.  Among  the  articles  in  that  book  was  the  following  story  as 
related  by  Mr.  Pope. 

Shakspeare,  after  his  retirement  from  the  stage,  used,  on  his  visits 
to  London  and  also  on  his  return,  to  rest  at  the  Crown  at  Oxford, 
the  chief  inn  in  that  city,  then  kept  by  Mr.  Davenant.  This  land- 
lord had  a  son  to  whom  Shakspeare  was  godfather,  and  who  was 
therefore  christened  William.  Mrs.  Davenant  was  a  very  handsome 
woman,  and  it  was  surmised  that  Shakspeare  was  more  than  a  god- 
father to  the  boy.  Billy  Davenant  was  always  sent  for  from  school 
when  Shakspeare  arrived,  and  one  day  when  the  boy  was  running- 
home  he  was  met  by  a  head  of  one  of  the  colleges,  and  asked  where 
he  was  going  in  such  haste.  The  boy  said,  "  I  am  going  to  my 
godfather,  Shakspeare." — "  What  1"  said  the  gentleman,  "  have  they 
not  yet  taught  you  not  to  Lake  the  Lord's  name  in  vain  V — in  which 
he  was  supposed  to  allude  to  the  rumour  against  Mrs.  Davenant's 
conjugal  fidelity. 

Such  is  the  story  as  I  copied  it  from  the  manuscript,  and  many 
years  ago  communicated  to  the  world  through  the  medium  of  the 
public  press.  I  have  since  discovered  that  my  father's  old  friend 
Mr.  Oldys  relates  the  same  story  in  his  manuscript,  as  having  also 
received  it  from  Pope  at  Lord  Oxford's  table,  and  states  that  it  was  a 
townsman  of  Oxford,  not  the  head  of  a  college,  who  addressed  the 
boy ;  but  the  answer,  in  my  opinion,  is  more  pointed  in  Mr.  White's 
account  of  the  story,  and  more  suitable  to  a  scholar  than  a  towns- 
man. 

Mr.  Steevens's  disbelief  and  contempt  of  this  story  is  truly  ridicu- 
lous, viz.  that  from  Sir  William  Davenant's  "  heavy,  vulgar,  unmeaning 
face,"  he  could  not  be  Shakspeare's  son :  as  if  nature  was  always 
consistent  in  transmitting  beauty  and  deformity.  But  surely  Mr. 
Steevens  might  have  traced  some  lineaments  of  Shakspeare's  mind 
in  Sir  William,  who  was  shrewd,  intelligent,  and  a  good  poet ;  and 
whose  son  seemed  to  carry  on  the  intellectual  features,  as  he  was  a 
scholar,  and  published  several  learned  works.  Yet  for  the  honour  of 
Mrs.  Davenant's  character  it  wrould  be  liberal  to  distrust  the  story, 
though  not  upon  the  same  grounds  as  the  absurd  skepticism  of  Mr. 
Steevens. 

There  is  another  story  respecting  Shakspeare,  which  I  have  read, 
but  know  not  where,  and  which  I  may  mention  because  every  thing 
that  relates  to  our  great  dramatic  bard  must  have  some  interest 


324 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


attached  to  it.  It  is  said  that  Burbage,  the  chief  actor  in  Shakspeare's 
time,  had  made  an  assignation  with  a  lady  of  a  tolerating  disposition  ; 
that  he  was  to  call  on  her  when  he  had  performed  his  part  at  the 
theatre  ;  and  that  when  he  knocked  at  the  door  and  she  answered  him 
from  the  window,  his  signal  was  to  be,  "  I  am  Richard  the  Third," 
the  part  which  he  had  previously  performed.  Shakspeare,  accord- 
ing to  the  story,  overheard  the  appointment,  and  determined  to  fore- 
stall Burbage  ;  and  as  either  gallant  was  equally  acceptable  to  the  lady, 
Shakspeare  was  well  received.  When  Burbage  came  and  knocked 
at  the  door,  Shakspeare  looked  out  of  the  window  instead  of  the 
lady,  and  in  answer  to  Burbage's  signal,  "  I  am  Richard  the  Third," 
said,  "  But  I  am  William  the  Conqueror,  and  he  was  the  first."  It  is 
not  unlikely  that  this  story  might  have  furnished  a  hint  to  Otway  for 
his  lamentable  incident  in  "  The  Orphan." 

There  was  another  curious  anecdote  in  the  same  manuscript  book, 
which  I  copied  and  gave  to  the  public  prints  many  years  ago.  It 
stated,  that  on  the  night  after  the  decollation  of  King  Charles  the 
First,  his  body  was  placed  in  a  room  at  Whitehall,  and  that  the  Earl 
of  Southampton  sat  in  the  room  to  guard  and  manifest  his  respect 
for  the  royal  corpse.  About  midnight  the  door  opened,  and  a  person 
entered  so  muffled  that  he  could  not  be  known,  who,  after  slowly 
walking  to  the  coffin,  looked  at  the  corpse  some  time,  and  having  ex- 
claimed, "  Cruel  necessity  !"  as  slowly  retired.  Lord  Southampton 
said  he  could  not  discover  the  person,  but  thought  from  his  figure  and 
voice  that  it  might  be  Oliver  Cromwell. 

Having  mentioned  these  anecdotes  to  my  late  friend  Mr.  Malone 
in  a  letter,  he  favoured  me  with  the  following  answers,  which  I  sub- 
mit to  the  reader,  as  they  afford  additional  proof  of  the  indefatigable 
zeal  with  which  he  pursued  all  subjects  that  he  took  in  hand,  and  of 
the  judgment  and  acuteness  with  which  he  treated  them. 

Mr.  Malone  was  quite  a  gentleman  in  his  manners,  and  rather  of  a 
mild  disposition,  except  when  he  had  to  support  the  truth,  and  then 
there  were  such  firmness  and  spirit  in  what  he  said,  as  could  hardly 
be  expected  from  one  so  meek  and  courteous  ;  but  he  never  departed 
from  politeness  and  respect.  The  following  is  Mr.  Malone's  answer 
to  the  first  of  these  anecdotes : 

"  to  john  taylor  esq. 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  An  unusual  press  of  business  has  prevented  me  from  thanking  you 
for  your  notices  concerning  Davenant's  being  the  supposed  son  of 
Shakspeare.  But  you  are  in  an  error  in  supposing  that  the  story 
which  you  mention  is  not  noticed  in  my  edition  :  it  occurs  there 
twice  ;  once  from  the  papers  of  Oldys,  who  says  he  had  it  from  Pope 
at  Lord  Oxford's  table  (see  vol.  i.  part  i.  page  158,  and  additional 
anecdotes,  Warton's  long  note,  &c),  and  again  the  fact  is  alluded  to 
in  vol.  i.  part  ii.  page  270.  It  also  occurs,  under  different  names,  in 
Taylor  the  Water  Poet's  Jests.  Oldys  having  got  hold  of  the  story, 
I  could  not  give  it  well  from  myself,  but  shall  give  it  in  form  in  my 


ME.  MALONE's  OPINION. 


325 


new  edition,  with  some  new  additional  evidence.  By  the  way,  you 
see  how  stories  gather  as  they  run  ;  for,  according  to  your  relater  it 
was  a  grave  head  of  a  house  who  asked  the  boy  this  question,  and 
made  the  sly  observation  on  Davenant's  answer ;  but  Oldys,  with 
more  probability,  says,  that  the  questioner  was  a  townsman  of  Ox- 
ford. Then  again,  we  are  told  that  Shakspeare  went  to  London 
every  second  year,  whereas,  unquestionably,  as  long  as  he  was  con- 
nected with  the  stage,  he  went  every  year. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  with  many  thanks, 

"  Most  faithfully  yours, 

■  £.  Malone. 

"  Foley  Place,  September  12, 1810." 

"  TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESq. 

"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  The  anecdote  you  mentioned  (as  derived  from  Pope),  of  a  man 
skulking  into  the  chamber  at  Whitehall,  on  the  night  when  the  body 
of  the  murdered  Charles  was  laid  there,  is  told  also  by  Spence,  in 
his  anecdotes,  from  the  same  authority.  But  it  is  good  for  nothing  : 
the  perfidious  Cromwell  had  no  such  feelings.  Read  the  trial  of  the 
regicides,  and  you  will  there  find  that  when  he  saw  Charles  landed 
at  Sir  R.  Cotton's  garden,  and  he  was  sure  they  had  caught  him,  he 
turned  as  white  as  a  sheet ;  and  just  after,  he  and  Harry  Martin  and 
others  entered  into  a  consultation  how  to  destroy  him  ;  and  they 
agreed  that  the  best  preparation  for  that  work  would  be  to  blacken 
him  enough.  Besides,  Mr.  Herbert,  to  whom  the  care  of  the  body 
was  consigned,  has  left  memoirs,  and  having  minutely  noticed  every 
little  circumstance,  and  doubtless  sat  up  with  the  body,  he  would 
hardly  have  omitted  such  a  circumstance  as  this. 

"  I  have  quite  forgot  what  you  told  me  concerning  Johnson's  pro- 
logue to  Goldsmith's  play.  Pray  be  so  good  as  to  send  it  to  me. 
The  life  will  very  soon  go  into  the  press. 

"  Yours,  dear  sir,  faithfully, 

"E.  M  ALONE 

«  Foley  Place,  Oct.  13, 1810." 

To  the  zeal,  judgment,  and  accuracy  of  Mr.  Malone,  the  world  is 
indebted  for  a  valuable  account  of  the  English  stage,  and  for  many 
interesting  particulars  respecting  the  works,  life,  and  family  of  Shak- 
speare. It  is  not  unlikely,  that  the  story  importing  that  Sir  William 
Davenant  was  supposed  to  be  the  son  of  Shakspeare,  which  I  derived 
from  the  manuscript  book  written  by  Mr.  White,  is  the  most  correct, 
for  Mr.  White  immediately  wrote  all  the  anecdotes  that  he  heard  at 
Lord  Oxford's  table,  and  Oldys  having  so  many  literary  works  in 
hand,  might  not  exactly  recollect  it.  According  to  Aubrey's  account, 
as  published  by  W ood,  Sir  William  was  contented  to  be  thought  the 
son  of  Shakspeare,  no  great  compliment  to  the  memory  of  his  mother. 
That  the  report  had  some  foundation  is  obvious,  since  it  was  men- 
tioned by  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet,  and  probably  by  others  at  the 


326 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


time.  At  all  events,  whatever  relates  to  Shakspeare  must  be  in- 
teresting. 

As  to  the  anecdote  respecting  the  supposed  visit  of  Cromwell  to 
the  body  of  King  Charles,  it  is  strange  that  Mr.  White  should  have 
mentioned  Lord  Southampton  as  sitting  up  with  the  body,  and  not 
Mr.  Herbert.  But,  perhaps,  they  both  performed  that  melancholy 
duty,  and  during  an  occasional  absence  of  Mr.  Herbert,  the  muffled 
man  might  have  entered  as  described,  and  he  therefore  did  not 
notice  what  he  had  not  himself  seen.  Admitting  that  Cromwell  was 
the  mysterious  visiter,  the  fact  wTas  perfectly  consistent  with  the 
hypocrisy  of  his  character,  and  a  natural  desire,  even  in  such  a  char- 
acter, to  acquire  some  reputation  for  humanity. 

It  is  somewhat  strange  that  Mr.  Malone  should  not  have  noticed 
Mr.  White's  statement,  that  Lord  Southampton  was  the  person  who 
attended  the  body  of  the  murdered  monarch,  as  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  it  was  so  represented  by  Pope  in  the  hearing  of  Mr. 
White,  who  did  not  mention  the  name  of  Mr.  Herbert.  Why  must 
the  story  be  untrue  ?  And  why  must  Cromwell  have  turned  as 
white  as  a  sheet  because  he  had  caught  the  king  ?  Turning  white  is 
not  the  indication  of  joy.  Granting  the  fact,  may  it  not  rather  be 
inferred  that  Cromwell  was  confused  by  the  sudden  arrival  of  the 
king,  and  apprehensive  that  the  people  might  rise  in  support  of  their 
persecuted  monarch,  and  the  rebels  be  finally  disappointed,  particu- 
larly as  they  deemed  it  necessary  to  blacken  his  character  in  order 
to  prepare  the  minds  of  the  people  for  the  dreadful  catastrophe  which 
they  had  in  view  ?  This  appears  to  me  to  be  a  more  probable  solu^ 
tion  of  Cromwell's  paleness  than  that  it  resulted  from  the  pleasure  of 
getting  the  unfortunate  monarch  into  his  power.  Upon  the  subject 
of  the  rebellion  and  the  regicides,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me  that 
Clarendon  wrote  from  his  feelings  rather  than  from  his  reflections  on 
the  conduct  of  the  conspirators  after  the  melancholy  event  had 
occurred.  Yet  I  reproach  myself  with  temerity  in  venturing  to 
differ  from  so  judicious  and  venerable  an  authority. 

Recurring  to  the  subject  of  Shakspeare,  a  subject  that  must  be 
ever  interesting  to  those  who  are  proud  of  their  country,  I  will  ven- 
ture to  hazard  a  conjecture.  It  is  well  known  that  there  is  a  tradi- 
tional story,  importing  that  Queen  Elizabeth,  pleased  with  FalstafF, 
desired  the  author  to  prolong  the  character,  and  represent  him  ia 
love,  and  that,  in  consequence  of  this  request,  he  wrote  "  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor."  But  that  seems  to  be  an  erroneous  conception, 
for  Shakspeare  has  not  invested  him  with  the  noble  and  disinterested 
passion  of  love,  but  has  made  him  a  mercenary  profligate,  and  a  pan- 
der, totally  contrary  to  the  supposed  wish  of  the  queen.  If  it  be 
true  that  Elizabeth  expressed  a  desire  to  Shakspeare  that  he  would 
write  any  play,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  play  in  question  must  have 
been  "  Henry  the  Eighth  ;"  for  whatever  her  filial  affection  and  rev- 
erence might  be,  she  must  have  been  convinced,  that  the  tyranny  and 
turbulence  of  her  father's  character  were  not  likely  to  receive  a 
favourable  report  in  the  record  of  history,  and  might  therefore  wish 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  AND  SHAKSPEARE- — R.  CUMBERLAND.  327 


that  the  great  poet  would  soften  his  character,  and  transmit  him  to 
posterity,  through  the  medium  of  the  drama,  with  a  princely  dignity, 
and  a  temper  blunt  but  not  brutal.  It  is  not  possible  that  Shakspeare 
would  have  presumed  to  introduce  the  character  of  her  father,  and 
have  brought  forward  the  play,  without  full  authority,  and  a  direct 
request,  if  not  a  positive  command. 

Shakspeare  has  wonderfully  succeeded  in  drawing  the  character 
of  Henry,  giving  a  favourable  colouring  to  his  tyranny,  cruelty,  and 
caprice,  and  such  as  must  have  satisfied  Elizabeth ;  and  this  con- 
jecture places  her  in  the  light  of  an  affectionate  and  respectful  daugh- 
ter. This  supposition,  in  my  humble  opinion,  gives  probability  and 
strength  to  the  traditional  story  of  her  having  desired  Shakspeare  to 
write  a  play,  but  not  that  in  which  there  is  no  conformity  to  her  sup- 
posed requisition.  Dr.  Kendrick  seems  to  have  adopted  the  mis- 
taken tradition,  and  to  have  been  tolerably  successful  in  giving  the 
facetious  and  licentious  old  knight  a  more  honourable  passion  in  his 
ingenious  comedy  of  "  Falstaff  s  Wedding." 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Mr.  Richard  Cumberland.  What  I  remember  of  this  gentle- 
man was  both  disagreeable  and  pleasing.  When  he  was  not  touched 
with  jealousy  of  other  writers,  his  manners  were  highly  gratifying. 
He  was  full  of  anecdotes,  but  sometimes  his  memory  failed,  and  little 
reliance  could  be  placed  on  the  accuracy  of  his  narrations.  He  had 
a  great  command  of  language,  and  has  left  full  evidence  of  his  having 
been  a  good  scholar,  as  well  as  a  sagacious  critic.  His  observations 
on  "  The  Fatal  Dowry"  of  Massinger,  compared  with  "  The  Fair 
Penitent"  of  Rowe,  which  my  friend  Gifford  has  introduced  in  his 
admirable  edition  of  Tlassinger's  Plays,  are  ingenious  and  profound ; 
but  it  is  by  no  means  improbable,  that  if  Rowe  had  been  as  distant  from 
him  in  point  of  time,  and  Massinger  as  near  to  his  period  as  Rowe, 
he  would  have  found  good  reasons  for  preferring  "  The  Fair  Peni- 
tent," and  his  arguments  have  been  as  strong  in  favour  of  the  latter. 

The  first  time  that  I  was  in  company  with  Mr.  Cumberland  was  at 
the  chaplain's  table  in  St.  James's  Palace.  Among  the  party  was 
Dr.  or  Mr.  Jackson,  one  of  his  majesty's  chaplains.  Jackson,  whose 
character  resembled  that  of  Mr.  Cumberland  in  veneration  for  the 
higher  ranks,  began  with  asking  how  Lord  Edward  Bentinck  was, 
that  nobleman  having  married  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Cumberland.  Mr. 
Cumberland  expatiated  upon  the  health  of  his  lordship,  and  nothing 
was  heard  but  about  his  lordship  for  some  time,  his  lordship's  title 
adorning  every  inquiry,  and  closing  every  answer.  At  length,  when 
his  lordship  had  sufficiently  wearied  the  company,  Lady  Edward  was 


328 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIPR. 


introduced  in  turn,  and  engrossed  nearly  as  much  of  the  conversa- 
tion as  his  lordship,  with  as  much  repetition  of  her  ladyship's  title. 

When  these  subjects  were  exhausted,  it  became  Mr.  Cumberland's 
turn  to  inquire ;  and  as  Jackson  was  patronised  by  the  Duke  of  Leeds, 
Mr.  Cumberland,  of  course,  thought  it  his  duty  to  inquire  after  his 
grace.  His  grace  then  was  echoed  over  the  table  as  frequently  as 
had  been  his  lordship  and  her  ladyship.  At  length  the  conversation 
became  general ;  but  some  contemporary  dramatic  author  having 
been  mentioned  with  commendation,  Mr.  Cumberland  began  to  ex- 
press his  surprise  that  so  favourable  an  account  had  been  given  of  a 
writer  so  little  entitled  to  notice,  much  less  to  praise.  The  gentleman 
who  had  commended  the  author  in  question  attempted  modestly  to 
support  his  opinion.  Mr.  Cumberland  became  heated,  and  spoke  in 
so  irritable  a  manner  that  the  gentleman  thought  proper  to  drop  the 
subject. 

Dr.  Taylor,  chaplain  to  his  majesty,  and  Jackson's  coadjutor,  was 
at  the  dinner,  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Penneck.  Mr.  Nicol,  the  venera- 
ble bookseller  to  his  majesty,  and  myself,  after  the  dinner,  adjourned 
for  tea  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Nicol  in  Pall  Mall ;  and  I  remember  that 
Mr.  Nicol,  after  a  liberal  compliment  to  the  talents  and  attainments 
of  Mr.  Cumberland,  concluded,  in  reference  to  the  want  of  temper 
which  he  had  shown  at  the  table,  with  observing,  that  he  v,  as  "  a  man 
without  a  skin." 

Jackson  was  generally  known  by  the  designation  of  Con.  Jackson, 
an  abridgement  of  consequential,  on  account  of  the  affected  dignity 
of  his  deportment,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  larded  his  conversa- 
tion with  the  names  of  his  noble  connexions.  My  late  friend  Sir 
James  Bland,  who  omitted  his  former  name  of  Burgess,  wrote  a  very 
humorous  tale  respecting  this  Dr.  Jackson,  entitled  "  The  Bishop's 
Wig,"  founded  on  a  report  that  the  doctor  had  ordered  a  wig  in  ex- 
pectation that  he  should  obtain  a  mitre  through  the  influence  of  his 
patron  the  Duke  of  Leeds.  Sir  James  had  written  many  other 
humorous  productions  of  the  same  description,  and  I  was  not  a  little 
gratified  when,  referring  to  my  tale  of  "  Monsieur  Tonson,"  he  ad- 
dressed me  once  in  company,  and  sportively  said,  "  Ah !  Taylor, 
nobody  can  write  tales  but  you  and  I." 

Mr.  Cumberland  certainly  displayed  his  critical  acumen  when  he 
was  the  means  of  introducing  Mr.  Dowton  to  the  London  stage,  one 
of  the  best  comic  actors  within  my  remembrance.  It  is  with  much 
reluctance  that  I  have  given  this  unfavourable  account  of  a  gentle- 
man whom  I  cannot  but  admire  as  a  scholar  and  an  author ;  but 
though  I  could  relate  other  anecdotes  of  the  same  kind,  I  shall  take 
leave  of  him  with  one  anecdote  that  was  told  me  by  my  early  and 
most  intimate  friend  the  late  Mr.  Richardson,  author  of  the  comedy 
entitled  "  The  Fugitive,"  and  one  of  the  writers  of  "  The  Rolliad  and 
the  Probationary  Odes." 

Mr.  Cumberland  came  one  night  to  Mr.  Sheridan's  box  in  the 
theatre  somewhat  late,  and  stumbled  at  the  entrance.  Mr.  Sheridan 
sprang  forward  and  assisted  him.    "Ah!  sir,"  said  Cumberland, 


MR.  RICHARDSON. 


329 


u  you  are  the  only  man  to  assist  a  falling  author.  Mr.  Sheridan,  in 
waggery  or  forgetfulness,  said,  "  Rising,  you  mean,"  the  very  words 
which  Mr.  Sheridan  has  assigned  to  Sir  Fretful  Plagiary,  in  "  The 
Critic,"  a  character  commonly  understood  to  be  drawn  for  Mr.  Cum- 
berland. 

The  name  of  Mr.  Richardson  will  not  suffer  me  to  proceed  to 
any  other  subject,  till  I  have  paid  a  tribute  of  sincere  respect  and  re- 
gard to  his  memory.  I  became  acquainted  with  him  just  after  he 
quitted  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  He  was  at  that  time  a  re- 
markably fine  showy  young  man.  I  was  struck  by  his  admirable 
understanding  and  the  peculiar  force  and  elegance  of  his  language, 
which  appeared  to  me  to  have  all  the  energy  without  the  pomp  of 
Johnson,  with  the  terseness  and  spirit  of  Junius.  As  he  was  a  total 
stranger  in  London,  and  had  no  college  connexions  in  town,  we  soon 
became  very  intimate,  and  our  friendship,  with  a  short  intermission, 
lasted  till  the  end  of  his  life.  My  admiration  of  his  talents  increased 
in  proportion  as  I  became  better  acquainted  with  him,  and  I  had  never 
any  reason  to  alter  my  opinion  of  his  intellectual  powers.  His  short 
history,  as  I  understood  from  one  of  his  earliest  friends,  was  as  fol- 
lows. 

He  was  born  at  Hexham,  in  Northumberland,  in  1755,  and  was 
the  son  of  a  respectable  tradesman  in  that  town.  The  father  not 
being  able  to  give  him  a  university  education,  a  titled  lady  in  the 
neighbourhood,  hearing  of  the  promising  talents  of  the  young  man, 
offered  to  send  him  to  college,  and  to  support  him  till  he  obtained  a 
degree,  signifying  that  he  would  probably  make  his  way  in  life  with- 
out requiring  any  farther  assistance  from  her.  After  he  had  been  a 
few  years  at  college  the  lady  married,  and  then  informed  him  that  her 
husband  did  not  think  it  proper  that  she  should  any  longer  support  a 
fine  young  man,  lest  she  should  give  occasion  to  the  gossiping  suspi- 
cions of  a  slanderous  wTorld.  As  Mr.  Richardson  did  not  choose  to 
become  a  burthen  upon  his  parents,  he  thought  proper  to  quit  his  col- 
lege, and  to  try  his  fortune  upon  the  world  at  large.  A  gentleman 
whom  he  had  known  at  Cambridge,  and  who  was  connected  with 
"  The  Morning  Post"  newspaper,  a  few  years  after  its  origin,  pro- 
cured for  him  the  situation  of  a  literary  contributor  to  that  paper,  and 
afterward  furnished  him  with  the  means  of  becoming  one  of  its 
proprietors. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  it  is  impossible  to  collect  his  various 
effusions  in  prose  and  verse,  during  his  connexion  with  that  paper,  as 
they  would  doubtless  have  constituted  a  lasting  monument  of  his 
genius,  learning,  and  taste. 

In  due  time  Mr.  Richardson's  talents  became  known  to  a  large 
circle  of  friends,  in  which  were  included  Mr.  Fox,  Mr.  Sheridan,  Mr. 
Tickel,  Lord  John  Townshend,  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  the  late  Duke  of 
Portland,  and  the  late  Duke  of  Northumberland.  The  last  nobleman 
enabled  him  to  become  representative  in  parliament  for  Newport  in 
Cornwall. 

He  was  called  to  the  bar  in  the  year  1784.    Being  of  a  modest 


330 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  delicate  temper,  though  he  possessed  great  powers  of  language, 
and  was  a  profound  logician,  the  "  wrangling  bar"  was  not  suited  to 
his  disposition  ;  and  to  the  same  cause  must  be  ascribed  his  indiffer- 
ence to  reputation  as  a  speaker  in  parliament.  Yet  I  am  assured 
upon  good  authority,  that  in  two  or  three  contested  elections  for 
country  boroughs,  he  distinguished  himself  as  a  counsel  by  the  shrewd- 
ness of  his  examinations  and  the  force  of  his  eloquence,  though  some- 
what impeded  by  a  provincial  accent,  wThich  he  never  could  suffi- 
ciently conquer  ;  and  this  circumstance  also  doubtless  deterred  him 
from  appearing  as  an  advocate  in  the  London  courts  of  law.  At 
length,  becoming  the  chief  confidential  friend  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  he 
was  induced  to  relinquish  the  bar  altogether,  and  to  turn  his  attention 
to  the  drama. 

In  the  year  1792,  his  comedy  of  "  The  Fugitive"  was  brought  for- 
ward at  the  King's  Theatre,*  in  the  Haymarket,  and  received  with 
very  great  applause.  The  prologue  was  written  by  the  late  General 
Burgoyne,  and  the  epilogue  by  Mr.  Tickel.  Mr.  Richardson  did  not 
think  proper  to  attend  the  performance  himself,  but  his  friend  Tickel, 
"who  was  present,  undertook  the  office  of  transmitting  to  him,  at  the 
end  of  every  act,  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  received 
by  the  audience  ;  and  the  very  favourable  reception  which  it  expe- 
rienced was,  of  course,  highly  gratifying  to  the  distinguished  friends 
of  the  author,  as  well  as  to  himself  and  his  family. 

This  comedy  is  written  wTith  admirable  spirit.  It  can  hardly  be 
considered  as  an  exaggeration  of  its  merit,  when  it  is  said  that  the 
scene  between  Old  Manly  and  Admiral  Cleveland  is  not  unworthy 
of  the  genius  of  Congreve.  It  was  supported  in  the  representation 
by  the  first  performers  of  the  theatre,  all  of  whom  felt  pleasure  in 
testifying  their  respect  for  the  author. 

During  the  progress  of  the  comedy,  Mr.  King,  who  performed  the 
part  of  the  admiral,  having  been  taken  ill,  the  late  Mr.  Kemble,  who 
wTas  then  the  manager,  undertook  the  part,  and  displayed  great  judg- 
ment and  more  comic  humour  than  was  thought  to  be  within  the 
compass  of  his  theatrical  powers.  By  the  profits  of  this  comedy,  and 
the  assistance  of  some  of  the  higher  order  of  his  friends,  Richardson 
was  able  to  purchase  from  Mr.  Sheridan  a  fourth  part  of  the  theatre. 
The  fame  which  he  acquired  by  this  comedy  considerably  extended 
the  circle  of  his  acquaintance ;  but,  however  tempted  by  invitations 
from  his  elevated  connexions,  nothing  could  induce  him  to  neglect 
the  society  of  his  family ;  and  as  I  was  the  most  intimate  of  his  pri- 
vate friends,  and  was  always  admitted,  I  am  indebted  to  this  domestic 
intercourse  for  many  of  the  happiest  days  that  I  was  ever  destined 
to  enjoy. 

I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pride  of  stating,  that  after  he  had  com- 
muned with  his  wife,  who  was  a  very  sensible  and  intelligent  critic, 
I  was  the  first  friend  whom  he  consulted  on  the  subject  of  his  play, 

*  Drury-lane  theatre  was  then  rebuilding,  and  the  theatrical  company  had  removed 
to  the  Italian  Opera-house. 


MR.  RICHARDSON. 


331 


and  I  retain  the  letter  which  he  wrote  to  me  on  the  occasion  from 
Broadstairs,  whither  he  had  retired  for  the  purpose  of  giving  it  a  final 
revision.  The  manuscript  was  transmitted  to  me.  I  read  it  with 
Ihe  zeal  and  caution  of  a  friend,  and  returned  it  with  a  sincere  tribute 
of  approbation,  to  the  best  of  my  judgment. 

As  I  wrote  an  account  of  Mr.  Richardson  in  "  The  Monthly  Mir- 
ror," a  periodical  work  of  well-merited  repute,  by  desire  of  the  pro- 
prietor, during  the  life  of  Mr.  Richardson,  and  the  biographical  sketch 
which  appears  in  the  collection  of  his  works,  by  desire  of  his  widow, 
I  need  not  prolong  the  subject  in  this  place. 

For  some  years  I  generally  dined  with  Mr.  Richardson  on  New 
Year's  day,  and  the  only  persons  invited  besides  myself  were  Mr. 
Sheridan  and  Mr.  Shield,  the  musician.  On  the  last  of  these  occa- 
sions, my  present  wife  was  one  of  the  party  ;  and  a  pleasant  day  we 
enjoyed,  not  without  a  feeling  of  regret  on  observing  the  evident  de- 
cline in  the  health  of  our  worthy  host.  On  this  occasion,  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, from  memory,  recited  the  verses  descriptive  of  some  of  his  poli- 
tical connexions,  which  my  friend  Mr.  Moore  has  introduced  in  his 
life  of  that  great  ornament  of  English  literature. 

When  the  first  wife  of  Mr.  Sheridan  died  at  Clifton,  Mr.  Richard- 
son accompanied  him,  and  witnessed  the  real  tenderness  and  affec- 
tion with  which  he  soothed  and  endeavoured  to  console  her  in  her 
Jast  moments,  and  the  grief  which  he  felt  when  death  deprived  him 
of  so  amiable  and  accomplished  a  partner.  Mr.  Tickel,  when  he 
was  deprived  of  his  wife,  was  also  attended  by  Mr.  Richardson  on  a 
similar  mournful  occasion.  Mrs.  sTickel  was  the  beloved  sister  of 
Jthe  former  lady,  who,  though  not  so  attractive  in  person  as  Mrs. 
Sheridan,  resembled  her  strongly  in  mental  powers,  accomplishments, 
and  disposition.  Mr.  Tickel,  in  the  agonies  of  sudden  grief,  intended 
to  have  a  tombstone  raised  at  the  place,  and  signified  his  resolution 
to  inscribe  it  with  his  declared  determination  never  to  engage  in 
wedlock  again,  but  to  continue  during  life  wedded  only  to  her 
remains.  Mr.  Richardson,  who  well  knew  the  character  of  Mr. 
Tickel,  persuaded  him  to  defer  this  affectionate  tribute  to  a  future 
period,  alleging  that  if  the  tribute  to  her  memory  were  immediately 
to  be  inscribed  on  the  tombstone,  it  might  be  considered  as  only  the 
effusion  of  temporary  grief;  but  that  if  it  were  delayed  for  a  twelve- 
month, or  a  more  distant  time,  it  then  would  naturally  be  deemed 
the  result  of  a  settled  conviction  of  her  virtues,  and  a  proof  of  his 
continued  and  durable  affection.  Mr.  Tickel  assented  to  this  dis- 
cerning counsel  of  his  friend,  and  a  year  or  two  afterward  entered 
into  a  second  marriage. 

Mr.  Richardson  continued  to  decline  in  health,  and  at  length  died 
on  the  9th  of  June,  1803,  in  the  forty-seventh  year  of  his  age,  though, 
from  the  original  vigour  of  his  constitution,  he  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  live  to  a  green  old  age.  This  melancholy  event  took  place 
at  Virginia  Water,  near  Egham,  and  he  was  buried  in  the  churchyard 
of  that  town.  His  funeral  was  attended  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  by  his  old 
and  constant  friend  Mr.  Richard  Wilson,  by  the  late  Dr.  Coombe, 


332 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


the  physician,  and  myself.  As  an  extraordinary  circumstance  occurred 
on  this  occasion,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  relate  it. 

The  funeral  ceremony  was  to  take  place  at  one  o'clock  in  the  day, 
but  we  did  not  reach  the  ground  till  a  quarter  after,  and  were  sur- 
prised and  grieved  to  find  that  the  funeral  rites  had  been  performed. 
Mr.  Sheridan  was  particularly  affected,  and  traversed  the  church- 
yard in  great  anxiety.  He  said  to  me  as  we  walked  together,  "  Now 
this  disappointment  will  be  imputed  to  me,  and  it  will  be  said  in  town 
by  all  our  mutual  friends,  that  it  was  owing  to  Sheridan's  d — d  negli- 
gence, which  he  could  not  shake  off,  even  to  pay  respect  to  the 
remains  of  his  dearest  friend."  During  this  interval  of  anxiety,  the 
clergyman  who  had  performed  the  ceremony  entered  the  church- 
yard. I  left  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  inquired  of  the  reverend  gentleman 
what  was  the  cause  of  this  hasty  interment,  as  greater  latitude  ought 
to  have  been  allowed  to  friends  who  had  to  come  twenty  miles  to 
attend  on  the  mournful  occasion,  and  who  had  arrived  within  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  after.  The  clergyman  said  it  was  owing  to  the  under- 
taker, who  alleged  that  he  had  another  funeral  to  attend  at  a  distant 
place.  I  then  asked  the  clergyman  if  the  ceremony  could  properly 
be  repeated,  as  we  were  all  bitterly  disappointed  that  we  were  pre- 
vented from  testifying  our  grief  by  partaking  in  the  last  offices  of  re- 
spect to  the  remains  of  a  valued  friend.  The  clergyman  seemed  to 
pause,  and  as  I  knew  that  my  interference  could  be  little  likely  to 
affect  him,  I  hastened  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  told  him  there  was  a 
possibility  that  the  ceremony  might  be  repeated.  Mi  .  Sheridan  then 
ran  to  the  clergyman,  telling  him  who  he  was,  and  earnestly  entreating, 
if  there  were  no  impropriety  in  the  measure,  that  the  ceremony  might 
again  take  place  to  satisfy  the  feelings  of  himself  and  his  friends. 
The  clergyman  said  that  he  was  only  the  curate  to  his  father,  the 
vicar,  and  could  not  without  authority  comply,  but  would  consult  his 
father,  and  if  he  consented,  return  immediately,  properly  attired  to 
repeat  the  ceremony.  In  a  few  moments  he  appeared  dressed  for 
the  occasion.  We  then  adjourned  to  the  church,  in  which  the  funeral 
service  was  partly  performed,  and  the  remainder  at  the  side  of  the 
grave,  without  removal  of  the  coffin. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  the  sort  of  mournful  exultation  with  which 
Mr.  Sheridan  said  he  could  now  venture  to  face  his  friends  in  London, 
conscious  that  he  had  not  failed  in  any  respect  to  do  honour  to  his 
departed  friend.  We  dined  at  Bedfont  on  our  return  to  town,  and 
Mr.  Sheridan  entered  into  a  eulogium  on  his  deceased  friend,  of 
whom  he  spoke  with  sincere  emotion  and  affecting  eloquence.  Mr. 
Sheridan  and  myself  were  set  down  at  the  end  of  Bond-street,  in 
Piccadilly,  and  1  accompanied  him  to  his  house  in  George-street, 
Hanover-square,  now  occupied  by  my  friend  Dr.  Pearson.  As  soon 
as  we  entered  Conduit-street,  he  manifested  great  emotion,  and  in  the 
agony  of  his  feelings  struck  his  head  against  the  door  of  the  nearest 
house,  exclaiming  that  he  had  lost  his  dearest  friend,  and  there  was 
now  nobody  who  could  enter  into  his  domestic  cares  and  be  a  con- 
fidential agent,  when  occasion  might  require,  between  himself  and 


MR.  RICHARDSON. 


333 


Mrs.  Sheridan.  I  endeavoured  to  sooth  his  feelings,  and  on  parting 
with  him  at  his  own  door,  he  designated  me  as  "Joe  Richardson's 
Legacy." 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  stating  these,  I  trust  not  unin- 
teresting facts,  as  they  relate  to  two  persons  whose  intellectual 
powers  were  of  so  high  an  order,  and  whose  friendship,  like  that  of 
Damon  and  Pythias,  deserves  to  be  recorded ;  and  also  because  my 
friend  Mr.  Moore,  in  his  "  Life  of  Sheridan,"  has  not  correctly 
recollected  what  I  related  to  him  on  the  occasion,  when  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  dining  with  him  at  Messrs.  Longman  and  Co.'s  for  that 
purpose.  I  shall  cite  the  whole  passage,  because  it  seems  to  reflect 
on  the  memory  of  Mr.  Sheridan  ;  nor  shall  I,  with  affected  modesty, 
omit  that  part  which  relates  to  myself,  for  who  would  not  be  proud 
of  praise  from  Mr.  Moore  ?  I  have  only  to  regret  that  I  do  not 
deserve  it. 

"  The  death  of  Joseph  Richardson,  which  took  place  in  this  year 
(1803),  was  felt  as  strongly  by  Sheridan  as  any  thing  can  be  felt  by 
those  who,  in  the  whirl  of  worldly  pursuits,  revolve  too  rapidly  round 
self  to  let  any  thing  rest  long  upon  their  surface.  With  a  fidelity  to 
his  old  habits  of  unpunctuality,  at  which  the  shade  of  Richardson 
might  have  smiled,  he  arrived  too  late  at  Bagshot  (Egham)  for  the 
funeral  of  his  friend,  but  succeeded  in  persuading  the  good-natured 
clergyman  to  perform  the  ceremony  over  again.  Mr.  John  Taylor, 
a  gentleman  whose  love  of  good-fellowship  and  wit  has  made  him 
the  welcome  associate  of  some  of  the  brightest  men  of  his  day,  was 
one  of  the  assistants  at  this  singular  scene,  and  also  joined  in  the 
party  at  the  inn  at  Bedfont  afterward,  where  Sheridan,  it  is  said, 
drained  the  '  cup  of  memory'  to  his  friend,  till  he  found  oblivion  at 
the  bottom." 

In  justice  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  it  is  proper  to  state,  that 
when  we  called  to  take  him  up  at  his  house,  on  going  to  the  funeral, 
he  came  to  the  door,  and  apologized  for  not  going  with  us,  as  he  said 
he  was  first  obliged  to  wait  on  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  but  that  he 
would  overtake  us  on  the  road.  I  who,  as  Mr.  Moore  says,  well 
knew  his  "old  habits,"  shook  my  head  in  doubt.  Mr.  Sheridan  then 
said,  "  No — honour  bright  (a  customary  expression  with  him),  you 
may  depend  on  my  overtaking  you  on  the  road ;  and  so  he  did  at 
Turnham  Green,  where  he  quitted  his  own  carriage  and  entered 
ours  ;  and  though  at  our  return  to  Bedfont  he  certainly  drank  to  the 
memory  of  his  friend,  it  was  to  no  unseemly  excess. 

In  some  degree  to  relieve  this  grave  recital,  I  cannot  help  stating 
that  in  going,  when  we  changed  horses  at  Hounslow,  Mr.  Sheridan 
said  he  would  walk  over  the  heath,  as  he  enjoyed  but  little  exercise. 
In  proportion  as  the  coach  followed  him,  he  quickened  his  pace,  and 
at  last,  to  prolong  his  exercise,  he  began  to  run  ;  and  never  did  1  see 
a  more  ludicrous  sight  than  his  figure,  almost  double,  exhibited,  while 
he  continued  to  hasten  his  speed  till  the  coach  overtook  him. 

The  scene  in  the  churchyard  would  have  been  diverting  also  on  a 
less  melancholy  occasion ;  for  in  our  hurry  to  attend  the  melancholy 

P3 


334 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


ceremony,  not  knowing  it  had  already  been  performed,  we  put  on  the 
mourning  cloaks  without  regard  to  their  size,  so  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had 
one  that  hardly  reached  to  his  knees,  and  Dr.  Coombe,  a  very  short 
man,  had  one  so  long  that  he  trampled  upon  it,  and  nearly  tumbled  at 
every  step.  Naturally  conversing  on  the  subject  of  our  departed 
friend  in  the  coach  as  we  returned,  Mr.  Sheridan  expressed  his  deter- 
mination to  write  an  epitaph  on  Mr.  Richardson  ;  and  Dr.  Coombe, 
who  professed  particular  knowledge  of  stones,  declared  that  he  would 
select  a  durable  one  for  the  inscription.  The  epitaph,  however,  was 
never  written,  and  the  stone  was  never  found.* 

After  the  death  of  Mr.  Richardson  I  seldom  saw  Mr.  Sheridan,  and 
the  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  in  company  with  him  was  at 
a  tavern  in  Portugal-street,  adjoining  Clare  market.  I  had  been 
dining  with  my  old  friend  Jesse  Foot  on  the  anniversary  of  his  birth- 
day, and  Mr.  Sheridan  having  learned  at  my  residence  where  I  dined, 
sent  a  message  to  me  about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  importing  that  he 
wished  to  see  me  on  particular  business,  at  the  said  tavern.  I  rather 
offended  my  friend  Foot  by  leaving  him,  but  alleged  the  probability 
that  Mr.  Sheridan  might  really  want  me,  and  I  was  permitted  to  de- 
part. I  naturally  expected  to  find  Mr.  Sheridan  alone,  or  with  some 
confidential  friend,  but  found  the  table  surrounded  by  jovial  spirits, 
who  seemed  determined  to  celebrate  their  orgies  till  a  late  hour.  Mr. 
Richard  Wilson  was  one  of  the  party.  His  cellar  adjoining  his  house 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  being  conveniently  near,  and  the  tavern  wTine 
not  being  of  the  best  order,  Mr.  Wilson  abundantly  supplied  all  that 
was  wanted,  and  there  was  a  call  upon  his  bins  till  five  in  the  morning, 
when  the  company  separated  ;  Mr.  Sheridan  having  been  in  remarka- 
bly good  spirits,  and  more  than  usually  inclined  to  colloquial  exertion. 

I  remember  that  speaking  of  a  person  who  had  published  a  pam- 
phlet against  him,  he  said  in  the  course  of  the  night,  "  I  suppose  that 

Mr.  thinks  I  am  angry  with  him,  but  he  is  mistaken,  for  I  never 

harbour  resentment.  If  his  punishment  depended  on  me,  I  would 
show  him  that  the  dignity  of  my  mind  was  superior  to  all  vindictive 
feelings.  Far  should  I  be  from  wishing  to  inflict  a  capital  punishment 
upon  him,  grounded  on  his  attack  upon  me  ;  but  yet  on  account  of 
his  general  character  and  conduct,  and  a  warning  to  others,  I  would 
merely  order  him  to  be  publicly  whipped  three  times,  to  be  placed  in 
the  pillory  four  times,  to  be  confined  in  prison  seven  years,  and  then, 
as  he  wrould  enjoy  freedom  the  more  after  so  long  a  confinement,  I 
would  have  him  transported  for  life." 

The  remainder  of  the  sitting  passed  with  jollity,  without  any  allu- 
sion to  politics,  and  though  Mr.  Sheridan  took  the  lead  in  wit  and 
humour,  yet  he  diffused  a  cheerful  contagion  round  the  rest  of  the 
company,  and  many  sallies  of  merriment  burst  from  other  members 
of  the  party,  who  were  previously  known  for  talents  and  festivity. 

Mr.  Sheridan,  unhappily,  was  not  reputed  to  be  the  most  prompt 

*  Mr.  Richardson  left  a  widow  and  four  daughters.  The  mother  and  youngest 
daughter  are  dead,  and  I  attended  them  to  the  grave,  j 


MR.  SHERIDAN  AND  MR.  SHAW. 


335 


and  punctual  of  paymasters.  He  was  indebted  to  Mr.  Shaw,  the 
leader  of  the  band  at  Drury-lane  theatre.  Mr.  Shaw,  though  a  friendly, 
good-natured  man,  tired  with  frequent  applications  without  success, 
called  on  me,  and  said  he  wished  to  submit  a  statement  of  his  situation 
and  his  correspondence  with  Mr.  Sheridan  to  the  public,  observing 
that  as  it  related  to  so  conspicuous  a  character,  it  would  attract  much 
attention  to  any  newspaper  that  contained  it.  He  said  that  therefore 
he  gave  me  the  preference,  requesting  it  might  appear  in  "  The  Sun." 
He  was  highly  incensed,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  I  persuaded 
him  to  let  me  write  to  Mr.  Sheridan  on  the  subject,  and  endeavour  to 
procure  an  amicable  arrangement,  observing  that,  if  he  could  not  suc- 
ceed in  his  application,  and  the  statement  were  published,  he  was  not 
likely  to  be  more  successful  after  the  matter  appeared  in  print ;  and 
that  I  should  despise  myself  if  i  endeavoured  to  draw  attention  to  my 
newspaper  by  exposing  the  differences  of  friends.  At  length  he  as- 
sented, and  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  in  hi3  answer,  which  I  have 
retained,  desired  me  to  appoint  a  meeting  at  my  office  between  him 
and  Mr.  Shaw  on  the  following  Saturday.  I  accordingly  wrote  to 
Mr.  Shaw  for  that  purpose.  Mr.  Sheridan  punctually  attended  at  the 
appointed  time,  and  I  explained  to  him  that  any  advantage  which  my 
paper  might  derive  from  the  publication  could  have  no  weight  with 
me  when  his  interest  was  concerned.  His  answer  was  so  gratifying 
to  me  that  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  mentioning  it.  u  Oh," 
said  he,  "  when  you  do  an  unkind  thing,  chaos  is  come  again  !"  Mr. 
Shaw,  perhaps  conscious  of  the  persuasive  powers  of  Mr.  Sheridan, 
or  unwilling  to  appear  as  an  enemy  before  one  with  whom  he  had  long 
been  in  friendship,  did  not  attend  the  meeting,  but  came  soon  after 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who  had  waited  two  hours,  left  the  place,  desiring  me 
to  appoint  a  meeting  with  Mr.  Shaw  for  the  following  Tuesday.  On 
this  occasion  the  latter  attended,  but  Mr.  Sheridan  did  not.  He  how- 
ever sent  Mr.  Graham,  a  friend,  to  meet  Mr.  Shaw,  and  request  him 
to  accompany  him  to  Sheridan's  house,  where  the  latter  waited  for 
him.  These  gentlemen  went  away  together,  and  matters  were  set- 
tled, as  I  afterward  understood  from  Mr.  Shaw,  who  told  me  that  he 
had  been  able  to  obtain  by  my  intercession  400/.  of  his  money. 

At  a  subsequent  period  Mr.  Shaw  applied  to  me  again,  in  hopes 
that  I  might  succeed  upon  a  similar  occasion.  I  immediately  wrote 
to  Mr.  Sheridan,  but  heard  no  more  of  the  matter,  and  therefore  infer 
that  a  similar  arrangement  took  place.  Mr.  Shaw,  I  understood,  was 
brought  into  difficulty  by  accepting  bills  for  a  perfidious  friend,  and 
retired  to  France,  where  he  still  lives,  and  most  probably  is  able  to 
support  himself  by  his  musical  talents,  and  is  doubtless  esteemed  for 
his  manly  character  and  social  disposition.  As  a  proof  of  Mr.  Shaw's 
friendly  feelings,  knowing  that  I  was  very  fond  of  one  of  Vanhall's  con- 
certos, he  never  saw  me  at  the  theatre  without  selecting  that  piece  for 
the  next  performance  in  the  orchestra  between  the  acts ;  and  as  I 
constantly  expected  it,  I  always  remained  to  profit  by  his  kindness. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  Mr.  Sheridan  I  overtook  him  in  Oxford- 
street,  leaning  on  his  servant's  arm.    I  joined  him,  and  he  dismissed 


336 


RECORDS   OF  MY  LIFE. 


his  servant  on  a  message,  leaning  on  me  till  we  reached  the  top  of  Bond- 
street.  In  the  course  of  our  walk  I  told  him,  that  if  he  would  accom- 
pany me  to  the  place  where  I  was  then  going,  he  would  make  an 
amiable  and  enlightened  family  happy.  He  asked  me  to  whom  I  was 
going,  and  I  told  him  I  was  to  pass  the  evening  at  Mr.  Shee's.  Mr. 
Sheridan  expressed  his  regret  that  some  friends  were  to  dine  with  him 
at  his  house  in  Saville-row :  "  But  tell  Mr.  Shee,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am 
unluckily  engaged,  and  add,  that  I  esteem  him  as  a  friend,  honour  him 
as  a  poet,  and  love  him  as  a  countryman." 


CHAPTER  XLV1I. 

The  late  Dr.  Bain,  a  truly  amiable  man  and  an  acute  and  expe- 
rienced physician,  of  whose  friendship  I  was  proud,  and  whose  mem- 
ory I  revere,  attended  the  last  days  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  when  the 
sheriff's  officers  were  sent  by  some  unrelenting  creditors  to  take  Mr. 
Sheridan  into  custody,  prohibited  them  from  exercising  their  inhuman 
purpose  on  pain  of  being  indicted  for  murder,  as  such  an  outrage  in 
his  present  situation  would  certainly  kill  him,  and  they  would  only 
have  his  dead  body  to  remove.  The  men  were  not  so  barbarous  as 
to  persevere,  but  retired.  The  doctor  gave  me  an  account  of  the  last 
moments  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  said  that  for  a  day  or  two  before  his 
death  he  was  either  too  weak  for  utterance,  or  not  disposed  to  make 
such  an  exertion.  The  doctor  toid  him  that  the  Bishop  of  London 
was  in  the  house,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  permit  his  lordship  to  re- 
peat a  short  prayer  by  his  bedside.  Mr.  Sheridan  did  not  speak,  but 
bowed  assent.  The  bishop  and  the  doctor  then  knelt  by  the  bedside, 
when  the  former  repeated  a  prayer,  but  the  fervour  of  devotion  ren- 
dered it  much  longer  than  the  doctor  expected.  Mr.  Sheridan  ap- 
peared to  be  attentive  during  the  whole.  He  closed  his  hands  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer,  and  bowed  his  head  at  every  emphatic  passage. 

A  few  days  previous  to  Mr.  Sheridan's  death  the  late  Mr.  Taylor 
Vaughan  came  to  the  house,  and  addressing  Dr.  Bain,  told  him,  as  it 
was  probable  that  Mr.  Sheridan  did  not  abound  in  money,  he  was  com- 
missioned to  present  him  a  draft  upon  Coutts's  for  200/.,  adding  that 
more  was  at  his  service  if  required.  The  doctor  said,  that  as  he  did 
not  observe  any  appearance  of  want  in  the  house,  he  could  not  take 
it  without  consulting  Mrs.  Sheridan.  The  lady,  on  hearing  of  this  un- 
expected liberality,  assured  the  doctor  that  she  was  fully  sensible  of 
the  kindness  of  the  donor,  but  must  decline  the  intended  donation, 
adding,  that  whatever  the  doctor  might  order  for  the  relief  of  Mr. 
Sheridan  should  be  fully  supplied.  The  draft  was  then  returned.  It 
was  understood  that  the  draft  was  sent  by  his  late  majesty,  who  had 
graciously  inquired  into  the  state  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  was  distin- 
guished among  the  very  few  who  were  not  indifferent  to  the  fate  of 
an  old  friend  in  his  extremity. 


MR.  SHERIDAN. 


337 


It  would  be  unjust  to  Lord  Holland  and  Mr.  Rogers,  the  admired 
poet,  if  it  were  not  mentioned  that  they  visited  Mr.  Sheridan  during 
his  last  illness,  and  that  on  the  application  of  the  latter  to  Mr.  Rogers, 
that  gentleman  sent  to  him  a  draft  for  150/.  in  addition  to  previous 
pecuniary  proofs  of  friendship.  Lord  Holland,  however,  insisted  on 
paying  half  of  that  sum.  As  Mr.  Moore  has  stated,  on  the  funeral 
of  Mr.  Sheridan, 

The  splendid  sorrows  that  adorned  his  hearse, 

it  is  not  necessary  to  add  any  thing  upon  that  subject  in  this  place. 

When  the  reports  of  Mr.  Sheridan's  illness  became  very  alarming, 
a  letter  appeared  in  "  The  Morning  Post,"  drawing  the  attention  of 
Mr.  Sheridan's  friends  to  his  melancholy  situation,  without  mentioning 
his  name,  but  designating  him  in  such  terms  as  left  no  doubt  to  whom 
it  related.  The  writer,  citing  the  line  above  mentioned,  concludes 
with  the  following  passage  :  "  I  say  life  and  succour  against  West- 
minster Abbey  and  a  funeral."  The  letter  was  anonymous,  but  it  is 
proper  to  state  that  it  was  written  by  Mr.  Denis  O'Bryen,  a  gentle- 
man whose  liberality  generally  exceeded  his  means,  who  was  then 
not  upon  the  most  amicable  terms  with  Mr.  Sheridan,  but  who,  as 
Mr.  Moore  says,  "  forgot  every  other  feeling  in  a  generous  pity  for 
his  fate,  and  in  honest  indignation  against  those  who  now  deserted 
him." 

Mr.  O'Bryen  was  favoured  by  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Canning,  and 
I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  that  gentleman  at  the  house  of  the 
former. 

Mr.  Sheridan,  with  all  his  great  intellectual  powers,  was  at  times 
disposed  to  indulge  in  boyish  waggery  ;  and  Mr.  Richardson  told  me, 
that  passing  over  Westminster  bridge  with  him,  he  had  much  diffi- 
culty in  preventing  him  from  tilting  into  the  Thames  a  board  covered 
with  images,  which  an  Italian  had  rested  on  the  balustrades.  Mr. 
Richardson  had  witnessed  some  playful  exertions  of  this  nature.  He 
did  so  merely  to  excite  surprise  and  fear  in  the  owners,  for  he  always 
amply  indemnified  them  for  any  injury  they  might  suffer. 

Upon  one  occasion,  when  a  nobleman,  who  had  heard  much  of 
the  talents  of  Mr.  Richardson,  had  desired  Mr.  Sheridan  to  invite 
him  to  the  country  seat,  where  the  latter  was  then  on  a  visit,  and  had 
received  a  letter  stating  that  Mr.  Richardson  was  unable  to  come, 
Mr.  Sheridan  kept  up  the  expectation  of  the  master  of  the  house, 
and  left  the  room  pretending  that  he  was  going  to  write  a  letter. 
Having  seen  a  good-looking  man  in  the  house,  a  visiter  to  the  servants, 
Mr.  Sheridan  procured  a  suit  of  clothes  belonging  to  the  master  of 
the  house,  had  the  man  dressed  in  them,  availed  himself  of  the  noise 
of  a  carriage,  and  formally  introduced  him  as  Mr.  Richardson  to  the 
noble  host.  Mr.  Sheridan  had  previously  tutored  the  man  not  to 
speak,  but  to  bow  when  any  thing  was  addressed  to  him.  The  com- 
pany were  struck  with  the  rustic  manner  of  the  supposed  Mr. 
Richardson,  but  thought  that  his  conversation  would  amply  compen- 


338 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


sate  for  any  awkwardness  in  his  deportment.  The  noble  host  was 
particularly  attentive  to  his  new  guest,  but,  after  many  vain  attempts 
to  draw  answers  from  him,  he  went  to  Sheridan,  and  expressing  his 
disappointment,  observed,  that  if  Mr.  Richardson  had  not  so  high  a 
reputation,  he  should  have  thought  he  was  a  very  stupid  fellow,  and 
had  never  been  used  to  good  company.  Sheridan  said,  "  Wait  till 
you  see  him  at  supper,  when  the  wine  has  warmed  him,  and  then  you 
will  find  that  he  fully  deserves  all  the  fame  which  his  talents  have 
excited."  The  nobleman,  however,  induced  others  of  the  party  to 
address  the  pseudo-Richardson,  and  all  endeavoured,  with  the  same 
ill-success,  to  draw  forth  his  powers.  They  all  therefore  agreed  in 
considering  Mr.  Richardson  as  one  of  the  dullest  men  they  had  ever 
met  with,  and  in  astonishment  that  so  discerning  a  judge  as  Mr. 
Sheridan  should  be  such  a  bigot  to  friendship.  At  length  supper  was 
announced,  and  the  company  were  less  prepared  to  enjoy  the  luxuries 
of  the  table  than  to  witness  the  brilliant  sallies  of  Mr.  Richardson. 
Sheridan,  however,  thought  that  he  had  carried  the  joke  far  enough, 
and  having  contrived  to  get  the  countryman  away,  revealed  his 
whimsical  expedient,  and  by  his  own  pleasantry  atoned  for  the  retire- 
ment of  the  rustic  Richardson. 

Another  time,  when  he  had  engaged  Charles  Fox,  Tickel,  and 
Richardson,  to  take  a  late  dinner  with  him  at  Putney,  in  a  house  lent 
to  him,  I  believe,  by  the  father  of  the  late  Mr.  Canning,  he  persuaded 
Charles  Fox  to  muffle  himself  in  a  great  coat,  and  he  did  the  same, 
when  they  went  on  horseback,  Tickel  and  Richardson  going  in  a 
post-chaise.  The  purpose  was  to  hover  near  the  chaise,  and  to  make 
Tickel  and  Richardson  fear  they  were  in  danger  of  being  attacked 
by  highwaymen.  The  night  was  dark  and  favoured  the  joke,  other- 
wise the  size  of  Charles  Fox  might  have  betrayed  him.  He  must, 
indeed,  have  appeared  like  Falstaff,  when  concerned  in  the  robbery  at 
Gadshill. 

Richardson  told  me  that  he  was  persuaded  by  Sheridan  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Putney,  with  the  assurance  that  Mrs.  Sheridan  was 
anxious  to  see  him,  that  lie  had  promised  to  bring  him,  and  that  Mrs. 
Sheridan  was  preparing  a  nice  supper  for  him  according  to  his  taste. 
Sheridan  knew  that  Richardson,  though  not  inordinately  attached  to 
the  pleasures  of  the  table,  was  not  however  indifferent  to  them,  and 
therefore  frequently  on  the  road  congratulated  Richardson  and  him- 
self on  the  good  cheer  which  Mrs.  Sheridan  was  preparing  for  them. 
When  they  reached  Putney  there  was  nothing  in  the  house  but  bread 
and  cheese,  and  about  the  fourth  part  of  a  bottle  of  port  in  the  de- 
canter, nor  had  Mr.  Sheridan  any  credit  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  certainly  a  good-natured  man,  and  capable  of 
great  fortitude  when  occasion  required.  When  Drury-lane  theatre 
was  destroyed  by  fire,  the  House  of  Commons  adjourned,  from 
motives  of  respect  and  sympathy,  on  account  of  the  dreadful  stroke 
which  had  fallen  upon  one  of  their  distinguished  members  ;  contrary 
to  the  desire  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  observed  that  the  business  of  the 
country  ought  not  to  be  interrupted  and  suspended  by  any  private 

I 


MR.  SHERIDAN. 


339 


loss.  The  measure,  however,  having  been  adopted,  Mr.  Sheridan 
retired  to  the  Piazza  Coffee-house  to  a  solitary  dinner.  Two  of  the 
principal  actors  of  Covent  Garden  theatre  were  dining  together  in  a 
distant  box,  and  having  finished  their  repast,  they  agreed  that  it  would  be 
proper  for  them  to  approach  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  expressed  their  con- 
cern for  the  calamity  which  had  happened.  Hearing  from  them  that 
they  were  going  to  observe  the  scene  of  devastation,  he  expressed 
his  desire  of  going  with  them.  They  quitted  the  tavern,  and  mingled 
with  the  crowd,  standing  for  some  time  at  the  end  of  the  piazza  in 
Russefl-street.  Mr.  Sheridan  looked  at  the  blazing  ruin  with  the 
utmost  composure.  At  length  the  gentlemen  expressed  their  surprise 
that  he  could  witness  the  destruction  of  his  property  with  so  much 
fortitude.  His  answer,  which  was  recited  to  me  by  both  of  the  gentle- 
men in  identically  the  same  words,  was  as  follows  :  "  There  are  but 
three  things  that  should  try  a  man's  temper  :  the  loss  of  what  was  the 
dearest  object  of  his  affections — that  I  have  suffered ;  bodily  pain, 
which,  however  philosophers  may  affect  to  despise  it,  is  a  serious  evil 
— that  I  have  suffered  ;  but  the  worst  of  all  is  self-reproach — that, 
thank  God,  I  never  suffered  !"  The  last  of  these  declarations  may 
be  thought  to  be  rather  repugnant  to  the  course  of  his  life,  yet  I  think 
it  will  admit  of  a  satisfactory  solution,  according  to  the  opinion  of  my 
friend  Richardson,  who  was  a  very  penetrating  man,  and  could  sound 
the  depth  of  character  with  the  utmost  sagacity. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  that  gentleman,  that  Mr.  Sheridan,  before  he 
was  led  into  ambitious  views,  and  tempted  into  the  ensnaring  vortex 
of  fashionable  life,  had  the  most  upright  disposition  ;  and  he  used  to 
declare  as  his  solemn  conviction,  that,  if  Sheridan  could  be  touched 
by  a  talisman  into  a  man  of  fortune,  he  would  immediately  become 
a  man  of  integrity  and  nice  honour.  As  every  thing  relating  to  such 
a  man  as  Mr.  Sheridan  cannot  be  wholly  uninteresting,  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  mention  the  following  circumstance. 

I  had  dined  with  Mr.  Richardson,  and  by  desire  of  Mr.  Sheridan 
he  had  promised  to  bring  me  with  him  at  ten  o'clock  to  the  Shak- 
speare  tavern,  in  Covent  Garden,  where  Mr.  Sheridan  said  he  should 
dine  privately  for  the  purpose  of  writing  some  letters.  We  attended 
at  the  appointed  time,  and  found  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had  just  closed 
his  correspondence.  He  seemed  to  have  roused  himself  into  unusual 
activity,  for  he  had  written  about  thirty  letters,  which  he  tied  up  in  a 
handkerchief,  and  then  resigned  himself  to  conversation.  He  im- 
mediately, according  to  the  terms  of  his  invitation,  ordered  burned 
bones  and  claret.  Theatrical  matters,  without  any  politics,  consti- 
tuted the  chief  subject  of  conversation.  In  the  course  of  the  night, 
he  lamented  that  he  had  not  seen  Mr.  Garrick's  performances  as  often 
as  he  might  have  done  :  "  But,"  said  he, "  my  father  had  often  told  me 
that  he  himself  was  the  best  living  actor-  and  as  I  had  seen  my  father 
perform  very  often,  I  had  no  great  curiosity  to  witness  an  inferior. 
When,  however,  I  saw  Garrick,  I  was  so  struck  with  his  wonderful 
powers,  that  I  omitted  no  opportunity  of  attending  his  performances. 
He  soon  after  observed  that  Kemble  was  a  very  good  actor,  and  that 


340 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


he  thought  even  Garrick  could  not  have  performed  Rolla  so  well.  I 
ventured  to  ask  him  if  this  opinion  did  not  savour  of  parental  par- 
tiality in  the  author  of  that  character.  He  contradicted  this  conjecture, 
and  then  I  asked  him  if  he  would  have  written  a  monody  on  the 
death  of  Kemble.  He  said  no,  because  Garrick  was  universally  ex- 
cellent, but  that  Kemble,  whatever  might  be  his  merit,  was  limited  in 
his  genius. 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  averse  to  punning,  to  which  I  was  perhaps  at 
that  time  too  much  addicted,  and  resuming  our  conversation  on 
Garrick,  I  asked  which  of  Garrick's  performances  he  thought  the 
best  ?  "  Oh  !"  said  he,  "  the  Lear,  the  Lear"  Indulging  my  usual 
habit,  I  could  not  forbear  to  observe,  "  No  wonder  you  were  fond  of 
a  Leer,  since  you  married  an  Ogle"  He  then  mentioned  the  name 
of  a  notorious  punster  of  our  acquaintance,  and  said  it  was  too  bad 
even  for  him.  Mr.  Richardson  was  very  attentive  to  Mr.  Sheridan, 
but  spoke  little.  I  believe  many  will  envy  me  the  conversation  of 
two  such  men,  which  I  enjoyed  till  three  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

Mr.  Richardson  I  had  introduced  to  Dr.  Monsey's  table  at 
Chelsea,  and  they  were  conversing  on  the  subject  of  the  universe ; 
the  doctor's  manner  of  admitting  the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Being 
was  in  the  following  words :  "  I  can't  do  without  an  intelligent  agent.'7 
After  all,  what  are  the  opinions  of  any  human  being  ?  The  wisest 
can  only  form  his  opinion  on  the  opinion  of  others,  and  they  must  be 
wholly  made  up  of  the  habits,  prejudices,  inclinations,  and  passions  of 
each  individual. 

Monsey  was  an  enemy  to  all  forms,  but  was  capable  of  very 
generous  actions.  He  had  a  peculiar  clock  of  a  complicated  descrip- 
tion, which  required  a  skilful  workman,  perfectly  acquainted  with  its 
structure,  to  regulate  its  movements  when  necessary.  For  this 
purpose  he  became  acquainted  with  a  Mr.  Barber,  a  watch-maker, 
who  lived  in  Dean-street,  Soho,  to  whom  he  gave  five  pounds  a  year 
for  that  service.  On  those  occasions  Barber  used  to  dine  with  him, 
and  I  was  one  day  of  the  party.  When  Barber  was  upon  the  steps 
performing  his  office  on  the  clock,  the  doctor  was  sitting  by  the  fire 
with  his  legs  on  the  table,  as  he  said  he  courted  as  much  as  he  could 
the  horizontal  posture,  in  order  to  give  less  trouble  to  the  blood  in  its 
travels  through  the  body.  While  Barber  was  wholly  absorbed  in  his 
business,  Monsey  said  in  a  loud  tone,  "  Barber,  I  don't  believe  you'll 
ever  be  able  to  pay  me  the  100Z.  that  I  lent  to  you."  Barber  turned 
round,  raised  his  spectacles  on  his  forehead,  and  with  ludicrous 
sincerity,  as  regular  as  the  mechanism  he  had  been  handling,  answered, 
"  Why  really,  doctor,  I  believe  I  never  shall."    "  Well,"  rejoined  the 


MR.  WINDHAM — MR.  BURKE. 


341 


doctor,  "  if  you  cannot,  I  shall  not  ask  for  it."  Neither  of  them  was 
aware  that  any  delicacy  was  necessary  in  the  presence  of  a  third 
person. 

Another  instance  of  Monsey's  liberal  disposition  may  tend  to  show 
that,  however  rough  in  manners,  he  was  benevolent  in  his  heart. 
Having  heard  that  the  late  Mr.  Windham,  with  whose  father  he  had 
been  intimate,  had  occasion  for  money  at  a  particular  period,  Monsey 
called  on  him,  and  offered  him  the  loan  of  any  sum  in  his  power,  and 
for  any  period.  Mr.  Windham  was  surprised  that  Monsey  had  heard 
of  his  exigency,  but  accepted  the  loan  of  500/.,  which  was  duly 
returned,  but  not  without  a  struggle  on  the  part  of  Monsey  against 
receiving  interest. 

Mr.  Windham's  father  was,  by  Monsey's  account,  a  stout  resolute 
man,  fond  of  athletic  exercises,  which  propensity  his  son  partly 
inherited.  The  only  blemish  on  the  character  of  the  son  was  the 
cold  unfeeling  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Pitt,  when  the  death 
of  the  latter  was  announced  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  a  proposal 
was  made  for  an  adjournment  on  account  of  that  melancholy  event. 
But  Mr.  Windham  was  a  fine,  spirited  British  character,  and  an  able 
statesman. 

The  change  in  his  character  after  he  became  conspicuous  in 
politics  is  not  unworthy  of  notice.  When  Sheridan,  who  was  in- 
timate with  him,  was  asked  what  sort  of  person  he  was,  his  answer 
was, "  Windham  has  a  nice,  delicate,  refined,  fastidious  understanding." 
Those,  T  remember,  wprp  his  very  words. 

I  was  present  at  one  of  the  annual  celebrations  at  Chelsea  Hospital 
(indeed  at  both)  when  Mr.  Burke  was  paymaster,  and  the  elder  Mr. 
Boswell  was  present.  The  conversation  turned  upon  Sir  Joseph 
Mawbey.  After  some  animadversion  upon  the  peculiarities  of  that 
gentleman,  and  during  a  short  pause  among  the  company,  Monsey 
said,  "  It  is  curious  to  contemplate  the  immense  difference  among 
human  beings,  beginning  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  descending  to 
Sir  Joseph  Mawbey.''  Boswell  immediately  said,  "  When  you  come 
to  Sir  Joseph  you  are  not  far  from  the  pigs"  (alluding  to  Sir  Joseph's 
business  as  a  distiller).  "  Yes,"  said  Burke,  "  it  is  worse  than  the  half- 
way-house" Young  Burke,  a  delicate  young  man,  added,  "  I  have 
heard  him  called  a  pig  of  lead,"  and  then  the  subject  ended.  But 
after  all,  however  politic  smight  bias  opinions,  Sir  Joseph  Mawbey 
was  considered  by  his  friends  as  a  public-spirited  character,  and  a 
man  of  taste,  and  in  the  latter  capacity  has  displayed  his  talents  in 
many  poetical  effusions.  But  what  will  not  party  do  to  sour  the 
temper  and  corrupt  the  judgment ! 

Sir  George  Howard  was  the  governor  of  Chelsea  Hospital  at  that 
time,  and  instead  of  giving  scope  to  the  powers  of  Mr.  Burke,  he 
bored  the  company  with  old  military  stories  that  are  generally  known, 
and  much  better  related  in  all  printed  narrations.  But  he  was  the 
presiding  authority,  and  as  "a  dog's  obeyed  in  office,"  even  the 
eloquence  of  a  Burke,  the  playful  exuberance  of  a  Boswell,  and  the 


342 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


learned  humour  and  odd  eccentricities  of  a  Monsey,  were  nullified  by 
the  garrulity  of  old  age. 

My  admiration  of  Mr.  Burke  would  induce  me  not  to  mention  what 
passed  previous  to  the  dinner,  if  it  did  not  tend  to  illustrate  human 
nature,  and  to  show  that  the  greatest  characters  are  not  exempt  from 
human  weakness. 

Mr.  Burke,  as  paymaster,  had  some  accounts  to  settle  with  the 
officers  of  Chelsea  Hospital  before  dinner.  When  they  were  settled, 
he  had  to  pass  about  ten  yards  in  the  open  air  to  the  dinner-hall.  He 
had  not  to  pass  through  what  might  even  be  deemed  a  mist,  but  the 
moment  he  entered  he  desired  some  brandy  to  rub  upon  his  elbow, 
as  he  feared  he  might  otherwise  suffer  from  cold.  Everybody  was 
immediately  on  the  alert  to  assist  him.  He  pulled  off  his  coat, 
(evidently  a  new  one  for  the  occasion,)  gave  the  coat  to  one,  pulled 
up  his  shirt-sleeve,  dipped  his  fingers  into  the  cup  with  brandy  held 
by  another,  and  contrived  to  employ  every  one  somehow  or  other  all 
the  time  he  rubbed  his  elbow.  He,  however,  amused  his  volunteer 
servants  with  some  jokes  during  the  operation;  and  the  sportive 
condescension  of  so  great  a  man,  he  being  also  the  paymaster,  seemed 
to  be  considered  as  a  rich  reward  for  their  assiduity  in  his  service. 

I  should  not  have  mentioned  this  trifling  incident,  if  it  did  not 
correspond  with  a  similar  circumstance  which  I  had  heard  many 
years  before  upon  unquestionable  authority,  and  if  it  did  not  develop 
in  some  degree  the  private  character  of  Mr.  Burke.  On  some  im- 
portant debate  which  was  expected  in  the  House  of  Commnns,  Lord 
Rockingham  was  anxiously  waiting  for  Mr.  Burke,  in  order  to  hear 
what  had  passed,  and  when  from  the  knocking  at  the  door  he  had 
reason  to  believe  that  Mr.  Burke  had  arrived,  the  noble  lord  could 
not  restrain  his  solicitude,  but  actually  went  down  into  the  hall  to 
question  him  before  he  quitted  the  sedan-chair  which  conveyed  him. 
Mr.  Burke,  instead  of  answering  his  noble  patron,  acted  exactly  the 
part  of  the  nurse  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  when  the  young  lady  is  im- 
patient to  know  what  message  the  former  had  brought  from  her 
lover.  Mr.  Burke  turned  about  in  the  sedan-chair,  complained  of 
the  fatigue  he  had  endured,  declared  that  he  was  unable  to  answer, 
and  kept  Lord  Rockingham  in  restless  eagerness  at  the  side  of  the 
chair  till  Burke  thought  proper  to  quit  it. 

If  this  conduct,  compared  with  the  former  instance,  was  not  insolent 
pride,  or  at  least  gross  affectation,  to  use  the  mildest  term,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  say  what  is.  It  may  be  asked  what  was  Mr.  Burke's 
motive ;  and  perhaps  it  may  be  said,  that  people  who  rise  in  the 
world  above  their  hopes,  whatever  may  be  their  abilities,  like  to 
reduce  their  superiors,  and  to  drive  from  their  minds  all  humiliating 
recollections  of  their  original  condition.  Such  was  the  case  with  my 
father's  old  friend  Hugh  Kelly,  who,  instead  of  introducing  ordinary 
names  in  his  female  comic  characters,  styled  them  Hortensias  and 
Theodoras,  and  made  one  of  his  dramatic  gentlemen  address  a  letter 
to  another  by  the  name  of  Craggs  Belville,  Esq.  as  I  have  before 


MR.  BURKE. 


343 


observed.  Poor  Kelly  could  not  help  trying  all  expedients  to  efface 
every  remembrance  of  the  humility  of  his  origin. 

The  admirers  of  great  talents,  and  particularly  of  Mr.  Burke,  can 
have  no  reason  to  be  displeased  with  the  record  of  these  trifling 
incidents ;  as  they  not  only  serve  to  develop  human  nature,  but  to 
console  mankind  in  general  for  the  vast  superiority  of  those  who 
seem  as  if  they  belong  to  a  higher  order  of  beings,  though  they  must 
participate  in  all  the  infirmities  of  their  fellow-creatures. 

There  are,  however,  charges  of  a  more  serious  kind  which  the  pen 
of  history  will  record,  which  cast  an  indelible  stain  upon  the  life  of 
that  illustrious  statesman. 

It  is  evident  from  Mr.  Burke's  character,  that  he  did  not  possess 
the  feelings  of  a  liberal  and  gentlemanly  mind.  His  conduct  towards 
Mr.  Hastings  may  be  cited  as  a  proof.  It  has  been  said  that  a  great 
man  struggling  with  adversity  is  a  sight  worthy  of  the  gods ;  and 
why  ?  Because  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  gods  would  look  on  him 
with  pity,  and  with  a  disposition  to  remove  his  sufferings.  Who  can 
deny  that  Mr.  Hastings  was  a  great  man?  and  what  could  be  a  greater 
fall  than,  after  having  reigned  with  almost  boundless  authority  in  his 
Eastern  government,  to  be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  kneeling  before 
a  number  of  his  fellow-creatures,  and  of  receiving  their  permission  to 
rise  ?  Did  Mr.  Burke  emulate  the  gods  in  his  treatment  of  this  great 
man  in  adversity  ?  On  the  contrary,  he  treated  him  with  the  savage 
malignity  of  a  fiend. 

I  remember,  when  I  was  one  day  present  in  the  House  of  Lords 
during  the  impeachment,  Mr.  Burke,  after  uttering  the  most  abusive 
epithets  against  Mr.  Hastings,  made  some  assertion,  which  affected 
the  latter  so  strongly,  that  human  patience  was  exhausted,  and  in  an 
audible  whisper  he,  in  merely  a  word,  contradicted  the  virulent  de- 
claimer.  Mr.  Burke  happened  to  hear  him,  and  immediately  turning 
round,  exclaimed  with  vehemence,  "I  care  not  what  is  said  by  the 
culprit  at  the  bar ;  he  is  in  the  condition  of  an  ordinary  culprit,  who, 
when  the  officers  of  justice  are  conducting  him  through  the  streets  to 
prison,  insults  every  person  who  comes  near  him  as  he  passes."  This 
brutal  insult  seemed  to  excite  general  disgust,  but  that  feeling  did  not 
mitigate  the  rancour  of  Mr.  Burke. 

I  was  present  at  this  scene  of  brutality,  and  was  shocked  to  see 
the  indifference  with  which  Mr.  Burke  appeared  to  treat  the  general 
sentiments  of  the  assembly,  who  seemed  indignantly  and  deeply  to 
feel  the  pitiable  situation  of  the  victim  of  his  persecution. 

The  following  article  I  recently  saw  in  a  public  newspaper,  and  I 
insert  it  literally  in  this  place,  to  justify  my  opinion  of  Mr.  Burke,  not 
having  the  least  doubt  that  it  was  founded  on  fact : — "  The  celebrated 
Edmund  Burke  was  one  of  the  members  appointed  by  the  House  of 
Commons  to  enforce  the  charges  of  crime  against  Mr.  Warren  Hast- 
ings, and  one  day  when  he  had  been  pouring  out  all  his  splendid  talents 
in  a  rich  display  of  oratory  against  the  accused,  he  addressed  the 
assembly  of  peers,  ladies,  and  gentlemen,  in  the  following  terms: 
'  When  I  look  round  this  glorious  circle,  bright  with  all  that  is  high  in 


344 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


rank,  all  that  is  powerful  in  talent,  all  that  is  amiable  in  virtue,  all  that 
is  brilliant  in  beauty,  and  then  turn  my  eyes  to  the  criminal  at  the 
bar,  my  mind  is  convulsed  with  horror,  and  I  sicken  at  the  sight. 
The  orator  then  placed  his  hands  on  the  table  before  him,  and  dropped 
his  head  into  them,  as  if  overwhelmed  by  the  dreadful  contemplation." 

On  coming  out  of  Westminster  Hall  after  this  splendid  oration, 
Burke  could  not  find  his  carriage,  and  Lord  Yarborough's  having  just 
drawn  up,  the  peer  offered  to  take  him  home.  The  ebullition  of 
Burke's  mind  had  not  subsided,  and  on  the  way,  without  considering 
the  indelicacy  of  appealing  to  one  who  was  ultimately  to  pronounce 
judgment  on  the  case,  he  proceeded  to  re-urge  the  arguments  on  his 
noble  auditor,  concluding  with  the  eager  inquiry,  "  Do  you  not  think 
this  man  a  great  criminal  V  Lord  Yarborough,  whose  correctness 
of  intellect  was  known  to  all  who  had  the  opportunity  of  knowing 
him,  immediately  answered,  "  Burke,  all  I  can  say  at  present  is,  that 
either  you  or  Hastings  deserves  to  be  hanged,  but  I  cannot  now  tell 
which  of  the  two."  This  answer  is  as  honourable  to  the  noble  lord 
as  it  is  disgraceful  to  the  person  who  gave  occasion  to  it.  But  the 
whole  persecution  of  Mr.  Hastings  arose  from  party  feelings,  if  not 
wholly  from  the  vindictive  rancour  of  Mr.  Burke. 

Mr.  Cooke,  a  native  of  Cork,  and  a  barrister-at-law,  who  came  to 
this  country  in  the  year  1766,  with  letters  of  recommendation  to 
the  two  Burkes,  to  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  other  distinguished  persons 
of  that  day,  was  particularly  well  acquainted  with  the  characters  of 
Edmund  and  Richard  Burke,  and  he  spoke  of  them  with  severe  rep- 
robation. He  said  that  he  was  once  induced  to  accept  a  bill  for  the 
latter  of  forty  pounds,  to  pay  for  some  wine  which  the  Burkes  had 
jointly  consumed.  Richard  Burke  kept  out  of  the  way,  and  Cooke 
was  threatened  with  arrest  for  the  forty  pounds,  when  he  had  not 
forty  shillings  at  command.  Feeling  for  his  situation,  the  holder  of 
the  bill  agreed  to  wait  till  Cooke  had  made  application  to  Edmund 
Burke,  that  he  might  induce  his  brother  to  honour  the  bill.  Edmund 
at  first  said  that  it  was  his  brother's  concern,  though  he  had  partaken 
of  the  wine  ;  but  when  Cooke,  who  at  that  time  subsisted  by  his  con- 
nexion with  newspapers,  and  was  a  proprietor  of  one,  threatened  to 
make  the  matter  public,  Mr.  Burke  desired  that  he  would  send  the 
creditor  to  him,  and  he  would  arrange  the  matter  one  way  or  other. 
Cooke  did  so,  and  never  heard  any  more  of  the  business. 

Mr.  Cooke,  whose  veracity  I  had  no  reason  to  distrust,  after  an 
intercourse  of  nearly  forty  years,  assured  me  that  he  always  consid- 
ered the  impeachment  of  Mr.  Ha  stinsfs  as  the  result  of  personal  ran- 
cour on  the  part  of  Mr.  Burke,  the  reason  of  which  has  been  already 
noticed. 

Mr.  Burke,  with  all  his  talents,  all  his  knowledge,  and  all  the  splen- 
dour of  his  reputation,  had  but  a  vulgar  mind.  What  must  be  thought 
of  the  mere  taste  of  a  man,  who  spoke  of  Mr.  Hastings  "  falling  from 
his  high  estate,"  when  he  was  in  helpless  submission  before  him,  in 
the  following  terms :  "  He  lay  down  in  his  sty  of  infamy,  wallowing 


MR.  BURKE. 


345 


in  the  filth  of  disgrace,  and  fattened  upon  the  offals  and  excrements 
of  dishonour." 

Mr.  Burke's  pamphlet  against  the  late  Duke  of  Bedford  was  written 
more  in  the  style  of  a  carcass-butcher  than  of  a  gentleman.  The 
duke  had  objected  to  the  grant  of  an  enormous  pension  to  Mr.  Burke, 
— and  what  were  the  merits  that  deserved  it  ?  His  bill  for  the  reduc- 
tion of  the  national  expenditure  went  upon  abuses,  the  growth  of  time 
and  negligence,  which  were  generally  mentioned,  and  which  national 
wisdom  and  national  necessity  would  have  "  known  without  a 
prompter,"  and  would  no  doubt  in  due  season  have  corrected.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  be  much  of  a  politician,  but  presume  to  say,  neverthe- 
less, of  his  famous  "  Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution,"  a  work  of 
more  importance  to  society  than  any  of  his  other  compositions,  that 
there  was  a  great  parade  of  speculative  reasoning  on  those  political 
theories  of  the  French  usurpers,  which  were  too  likely  to  be  transient 
in  duration  to  call  for  such  elaborate  discussion  and  excursive 
declamation. 

I  remember,  soon  after  the  publication  of  this  work,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  dining  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  at  his  house  in  Leicester- 
square,  and  the  convivial  disposition  of  the  elder  Mr.  Bos  well,  who 
had  not  received  his  due  proportion  of  wine,  obliged  the  great  artist 
to  give  us  a  supper.  The  party  at  dinner  consisted  of  the  late  Lord 
Stowell,  then  Sir  William  Scott ;  the  late  Mr.  Courtenay,  the  Irish 
wit  of  the  House  of  Commons  ;  the  elder  Mr.  Boswell ;  a  nephew  of 
Dr.  Robertson,  the  historian ;  and  myself.  After  dinner,  cards  were 
introduced,  and  at  the  end  of  a  few  rubbers,  Sir  William  and  Mr. 
Courtenay  retired,  leaving  Mr.  Boswell,  Dr.  Robertson's  nephew,  and 
myself.  It  was  my  wish  to  follow  the  example  of  those  gentlemen 
and  retire,  not  to  break  in  upon  the  regular  habits  of  our  host,  lest  I 
should  preclude  myself  from  the  chance  of  a  future  invitation  to  so 
very  agreeable  a  society  ;  but  Mr.  Boswell  assured  me  that  Sir  Joshua 
had  ordered  a  supper  from  respect  to  the  young  Scotsman's  uncle, 
and  that  I  should  be  thought  ungracious  in  leaving  him  to  entertain  a 
total  stranger.  I  therefore  remained  without  reluctance,  as  I  wished 
as  much  as  possible,  consistently  with  propriety,  to  prolong  my  inter- 
course with  our  courteous,  well-bred,  and  intelligent  host. 

In  the  course  of  the  supper,  Mr.  Burke's  "Reflections  on  the  French 
Revolution"  happening  to  become  a  topic  of  conversation,  I  ventured 
to  observe  that  I  thought  if  Dr.  Johnson  had  been  alive,  and  had 
written  on  the  subject,  he  would  not  have  devoted  so  much  time  to 
the  examination  of  evanescent  theories,  but  would  have  treated  the 
matter  with  a  deeper  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  more  philo- 
sophical energy.  Sir  Joshua  did  not  agree  with  me,  but  spoke  highly 
of  the  work  as  a  masterly  effusion  of  political  eloquence.  With  the 
highest  respect  for  the  judgment  of  the  great  artist,  it  may  not  be  im- 
proper to  observe,  that  he  was  a  shrewd  practical  politician.  It  was 
a  maxim  with  him,  that  praises  of  the  dead  were  useless,  and  ought 
to  be  avoided  when  they  were  likely  to  offend  the  living.  That  the 
dead  were  nothing  and  the  living  every  thing.   His  policy  therefore 


346 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


would  probably  have  been  puzzled,  if  Johnson  had  been  living,  and 
had  employed  his  great  powers  on  the  same  subject. 

With  respect  to  the  rumour  that  Burke  was  Junius,  it  is  certain 
that  many  passages  in  the  letters  of  that  spirited  writer  strongly  re- 
semble passages  in  Burke,  but  the  general  style  of  the  two  authors 
seems  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  Burke's  being  able  to  reduce  his 
expansive,  flowery  declamation  to  the  systematic,  terse,  condensed, 
emphatic,  pointed,  and  sarcastic  manner  of  the  Great  Unknown,  under 
the  shadow  of  a  mighty  name.  Dr.  Kelly,  of  Finsbury-square,  has 
brought  the  suspicion  nearer  to  Burke  than  any  preceding  writer ; 
though  Mr.  Taylor,  the  intelligent  bookseller,  has  certainly  raised  a 
strong  presumption  in  favour  of  the  pretensions  of  Sir  Philip  Francis. 
Independently,  however,  of  the  difficulty  of  believing  that  Sir  Philip 
had  talents  sufficient  for  the  work,  the  dates  of  some  of  the  letters, 
and  the  situation  of  Sir  Philip  at  the  time  of  publication,  render  it  a 
matter  of  impossibility.  Perhaps,  if  the  author  were  known,  the 
charm  would  be  dispelled ;  but  if  he  himself  is  to  be  believed,  he  never 
can  be  known,  for  he  says,  "  I  am  the  sole  depositary  of  my  own 
secret,  and  it  shall  perish  with  me."  So  that  if  it  were  ever  to  be 
really  developed,  it  could  not  excite  any  confidence  in  opposition  to 
the  solemn  declaration  of  the  author. 

As  the  question  of  who  was  the  author  of  Junius  will  be  an  in- 
teresting one  as  long  as  literature  shall  exist,  I  may  be  permitted  to 
prolong  the  subject.  It  is  evident  that  Junius  was  as  artful  as  he  was 
ingenious,  intelligent,  and  eloquent.  Though  no  man  might  more 
properly  be  trusted  than  my  worthy  old  friend  Mr.  H.  S.  Woodfall, 
yet,  as  there  could  be  no  reason  for  trusting  him,  when  Junius  says 
that  Mr.  Woodfall  may  some  time  know  him,  and  asked  him  to  tell 
candidly  if  he  guesses  who  he  was,  Junius  is  playing  a  trick,  for  he 
must  have  been  conscious  that  he  was  wrapped  in  impenetrable 
mystery.  And  when  he  says  that  he  had  been  governed  by  other 
people  in  writing  contrary  to  his  opinion  upon  a  particular  subject,  he 
either  forgot  the  declaration  of  his  impenetrable  secrecy,  or  again 
practised  an  artifice  for  some  secret  purpose. 

Some  persons  are  born  with  a  genius  for  artifice,  t»s  well  as  others 
for  poetry,  painting,  music,  &c.,  and  Junius  was  one  of  the  number. 
It  is  curious  to  observe  the  different  manner  in  which  he  first  speaks 
of  our  estimable  monarch  George  the  Third,  and  that  in  which  he 
afterward  treats  him.  In  his  first  letter  he  says,  "  When  our  gracious 
sovereign  ascended  the  throne,  we  were  a  flourishing  and  a  contented 
people.  If  the  personal  virtues  of  a  king  could  have  ensured  the  hap- 
piness of  his  subjects,  the  scene  could  not  have  altered  so  entirely 
cis  it  has  done.  The  idea  of  uniting  all  parties,  of  trying  all  charac- 
ters, and  distributing  the  offices  of  state  by  rotation,  was  gracious  and 
benevolent  to  an  extreme,  though  it  has  not  yet  produced  the  many 
salutary  effects  which  were  intended  by  it.  To  say  nothing  of  the 
wisdom  of  such  a  plan,  it  undoubtedly  arose  from  an  unbounded 
goodness  of  heart,  in  which  folly  had  no  share.  It  was  not  a  capri- 
cious partiality  to  new  faces;  it  was  not  a  natural  turn  for  low 


JUNIUS'S  LETTERS — VOLTAIRE. 


347 


intrigues ;  nor  was  it  the  treacherous  amusement  of  double  and 
triple  negotiations.  No,  sir,  it  arose  from  a  continued  anxiety  in  the 
purest  of  all  possible  hearts  for  the  general  welfare." 

After  this  high  eulogium  on  the  royal  character,  we  find  Junius 
representing  the  same  excellent  monarch  as  one  of  the  worst  men  in 
his  dominions,  and  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he  did  not  adopt  the 
measures  recommended  by  Junius. 

The  same  inconsistency  is  observable  respecting  Wilkes.  In  his 
eighth  letter,  addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  he  says,  referring  to 
Wilkes,  "  Now,  my  lord,  let  me  ask  you,  has  it  ever  occurred  to 
your  grace,  while  you  were  withdrawing  this  desperate  wretch3 
M'Quirk,  from  that  justice  which  the  laws  had  awarded,  and  which 
the  whole  people  of  England  demanded  against  him,  that  there  is 
another  man  who  is  the  favourite  of  his  country,  whose  pardon  would 
have  been  accepted  with  gratitude,  whose  pardon  would  have  healed 
all  our  divisions  1  Have  you  quite  forgotten  that  this  man  was  once 
your  grace's  friend  V 

In  his  letter  to  the  king,  he  speaks  of  Wilkes  as  "  A  man  not  very 
honourably  distinguished  in  the  world/'  whom  he  had  before  de- 
scribed as  "the  favourite  of  his  country,  whose  pardon  would 
have  healed  all  our  divisions."  And  in  the  same  letter  he  says, 
"  Pardon  this  man  the  remainder  of  his  punishment,  and  if  resent- 
ment still  prevails,  make  it,  what  it  should  have  been  long  since,  an 
act,  not  of  mercy,  but  contempt.  He  will  soon  fall  back  to  his 
natural  station — a  silent  senator,  and!  hardly  supporting  the  weekly 
eloquence  of  a  newspaper.  The  gentle  breath  of  peace  would  leave 
him  on  the  surface,  neglected  and  unmoved.  It  is  only  the  tempest 
that  lifts  him  from  his  place."    "  The  favourite  of  his  country  !" 

Junius  accused  his  majesty  of  having  "  affectedly  renounced  the 
name  of  Englishman,"  because  his  majesty  George  the  Third  had 
said,  that  he  gloried  in  having  been  "  born  a  Briton  ;"  meaning  to  use 
conciliatory  language  towards  the  people  of  "  Great  Britain"  in 
general,  and  not  to  pay  any  peculiar  compliment  to  those  of  the 
north.    This  is  an  insinuation  unworthy  of  Junius. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Voltaire.  This  author,  in  his  interesting  Life  of  Charles  the 
Twelfth  of  Sweden,  relates  the  extraordinary  visit  of  that  monarch 
to  the  Elector  Augustus  at  Dresden,  before  the  formsr  left  Saxony, 
in  a  manner  very  different  from  what  I  heard  it  described  by  Dr. 
Monsey,  who  heard  it  from  the  Earl  of  Peterborough  himself. 
Voltaire  states,  that  while  the  king  was  in  his  camp  at  Altranstad,  he 
was  receiving  ambassadors  from  almost  all  the  princes  in  Christendom. 


348 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


The  Earl  of  Peterborough  was  at  that  time  on  a  visit  to  the  Swedish 
monarch,  and  he  related  the  visit  in  the  following  manner : — 

"  I  had  dined  with  the  king  in  his  tent,"  said  his  lordship.  "  He 
despatched  his  dinner  in  a  few  moments,  and  then  left  me  to  finish 
mine  at  my  leisure,  throwing  himself  upon  a  sofa,  and  reading  in  an 
old  Bible,  with  brass  clasps  and  hinges.  As  soon  as  I  had  finished 
my  repast,  which  I  hastened  in  imitation  of  his  majesty,  the  king 
asked  me  if  I  was  inclined  to  take  a  ride.  As  every  thing  that  a 
king  desires  should,  I  thought,  be  complied  with,  at  least  in  matters 
of  that  kind,  I  readily  assented.  After  riding  a  few  miles,  we  came 
near  to  a  fortified  town,  which,  as  far  as  I  recollected,  seemed  to  me 
to  be  Dresden.  I  asked  the  king  if  I  was  right.  He  replied  in  the 
affirmative,  and  said  he  was  going  to  pay  a  visit  to  Augustus.  I  was 
quite  in  a  state  of  consternation,  and  lost  in  wonder  at  what  would 
be  the  result  of  this  singular  expedition,  after  he  had  deprived  the 
Elector  of  Saxony  of  the  throne  of  Poland,  and  otherwise  treated 
him  with  great  severity. 

"  When  the  king  entered  the  court-yard  of  the  palace,  attended  by 
me  and  a  slight  guard,  he  was  immediately  known  by  an  old  Sclavo- 
nian,  who  had  served  under  him  in  Sweden.  The  man  immediately 
gave  the  alarm,  and  all  was  bustle  and  confusion  in  the  palace. 
Charles  dismounted,  and  at  once  entered  the  palace,  desiring  to  see 
the  elector,  who  immediately  appeared,  and  after  a  few  words  asked 
him  to  dine  with  him,  and  me  also,  when  I  was  announced.  A 
repast  was  hastily  prepared,  and  we  sat  at  the  table.  The  first  dish 
was  soup,  and  while  the  king  was  lifting  the  spoon  to  his  mouth  there 
was  a  great  noise  on  the  stairs,  resembling  the  clatter  of  arms.  I 
observed  that,  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  noise,  he  shifted  his  spoon  into 
his  left  hand,  and  instantly  put  his  right  hand  on  his  sword.  The 
noise  was  soon  discovered  to  be  nothing  but  the  jostling  of  silver 
dishes,  and  then  he  cautiously  shifted  his  spoon  to  his  right  hand. 
The  repast  was  soon  ended,  when  he  took  his  leave,  and  there  was 
great  courtesy  on  both  sides. 

"As  we  were  returning,  we  met  a  large  body  of  Swedish  troops, 
headed  by  one  of  his  favourite  generals,  who,  thinking  his  sovereign 
had  been  surprised  and  made  prisoner,  were  advancing  to  rescue 
him  from  his  enemies.  Finding  that  all  was  safe,  they  returned,  after 
receiving  the  royal  thanks  for  their  zeal  and  promptitude.  As  we 
returned,  I  could  not  help  telling  the  king  that  I  noticed  his  conduct 
at  the  table  when  the  noise  occurred,  observing  that,  however  brave 
and  skilful  he  might  be,  he  could  not  have  contended  against  num- 
bers. He  said  in  answer,  that  '  had  any  armed  men  entered  the 
room,  he  had  resolved  first  to  cut  down  Augustus,  and  then  leave  the 
rest  to  fate  and  fortune.'  " 

This  account  is  more  characteristic  of  the  monarch  than  that  of 
Voltaire,  and  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  Dr.  Monsey  told  me  that  he 
either  received  it  from  Lord  Peterborough  himself,  or  Dr.  Friend, 
who  wrote  an  apology  for  his  lordship ;  but  as  Dr.  Monsey  knew 
both,  it  is  probable  he  had  the  authority  of  both. 


CHARLES  XII.  FRANCIS  NEWBERY,  ESQ. 


349 


Charles  the  Twelfth  was  the  favourite  hero  of  Dr.  Monsey,  who 
used  to  say  that  "  though  he  was  a  coward  himself,  he  always  loved 
bravery."  He  told  me  that  while  he  was  in  Norfolk,  some  foreigners 
visited  the  place  with  a  puppet-show,  and  among  them  was  an  old 
Livonian  soldier,  who  had  served  under  the  King  of  Sweden. 
Anxious  to  know  something  of  his  favourite  hero,  the  doctor  asked 
the  man  if  he  could  recollect  any  thing  respecting  him.  The  man 
said  all  he  could  remember  was,  that  a  bomb-shell  once  burst  very 
near  to  them  both,  and  that  he  ran  some  paces  away,  but  the  king 
remained  on  the  spot.  Charles  called  to  him  and  asked  him  why  he 
ran,  and  the  man  answered  that  he  was  afraid  of  the  bomb.  The 
king  made  no  reply,  but  the  man  added  that  he  saw  him  lift  his  hands, 
and  heard  him  say  to  himself,  "  Would  I  knew  what  fear  is  !" 

As  this  anecdote  was  not  likely  to  be  the  invention  of  an  ignorant 
old  soldier,  it  may  be  received  as  a  genuine  trait  of  the  character  of 
the  Alexander  of  the  north.*  After  all,  Charles  was  a  savage  hero. 
He  cared  nothing  for  the  lives  of  his  soldiers  when  his  own  ambition 
was  concerned,  however  desperate  his  situation,  or  how  many  soever 
were  "  killed  off"  to  use  an  expression  of  the  late  Mr.  Windham,  not 
much  to  the  honour  of  his  feelings.  Charles's  treatment  of  Patkul 
was  an  act  of  monstrous  cruelty,  which  nothing  but  insanity  could 
palliate.  It  was  an  act  of  deliberate  ferocity  that  will  always  stamp 
an  odium  on  his  character.  His  behaviour  also  to  the  Turks  at 
Bender  was  characterized  by  ingratitude,  folly,  and  even  madness. 
How  would  he  have  felt  if  he  could  have  peeped  into  the  book  of 
fate,  and  have  seen  the  throne  of  his  heroic  ancestors  occupied  by  a 
subaltern  of  a  revolutionary  French  army ! 

Francis  Newbery,  Esq.  With  this  gentleman  I  became  acquainted 
through  the  medium  of  my  friend  Sir  Francis  Freeling,  who  married 
his  daughter.  He  was  a  scholar  and  a  poet,  and  also  a  musician,  or 
rather  a  lover  of  music,  for  as  an  instrumental  performer  I  am  not 
acquainted  wTith  his  skill.  He  was  a  great  admirer  of  Dr.  Crotch, 
whose  taste,  judgment,  and  professional  skill  are  well  known.  Mr. 
Newbery  made  many  translations  of  the  classical  authors,  particularly 
Horace,  in  which,  as  far  as  I  can  presume  to  judge,  he  fully  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  author.  He  also  wrote  many  original  compo- 
sitions, which  were  set  to  music  by  Dr.  Crotch  and  his  other  friend 
Mr.  William  Shield,  whose  moral  qualities  and  professional  talents 
he  held  in  the  highest  esteem.  He  was  also  very  much  attached  to 
the  late  Mr.  Bartleman,  the  admirable  classical  singer,  as  he  may 
fairly  be  styled,  since  his  manner  of  singing  was  at  once  learned  and 
impressive. 

Mr.  Newbery  kindly  invited  me  to  his  private  and  select  concerts 
at  his  house  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard,  where  the  charms  of  music, 
and  his  lively  and  intelligent  conversation,  constituted  an  exquisite 
repast.     His  amiable  and  accomplished  daughter  was  the  second 

*  Voltaire  relates  a  similar  event,  and  probably  it  may  be  the  same,  though  without 
Charles's  exclamation,  which  was  not  likely  to  be  heard,  except  by  the  soldier  who 
was  so  near  to  him. 

Q 


350 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


■wife  of  the  present  Sir  Francis  Freeling,  and  a  more  pleasing,  un- 
affected, and  intelligent  lady  I  never  knew.  Mr.  Newbery  was  the 
son  of  the  eminent  and  respectable  bookseller,  who  purchased  a  part- 
nership in  the  celebrated  fever-powders  of  his  friend  Dr.  James,  and 
sold  them  in  conjunction  with  the  doctor's  son  for  many  years,  till 
some  untoward  circumstance  divided  them.  Mr.  Newbery  was  very 
playful  in  conversation,  as  well  as  judicious  and  erudite,  and  though 
reputed  to  be  a  good  scholar,  was  perfectly  free  from  an  ostentatious 
display  of  learning,  but  seemed  chiefly  anxious  to  excite  conviviality 
and  good-humour. 

Mr.  Newbery,  not  long  before  his  death,  unluckily  perhaps  for  both 
parties,  separated  from  his  partner  in  the  sale  of  Dr.  James's  medi- 
cines, a  circumstance  which  induced  me  to  write  a  poetic  trifle, 
which  I  shall  not  insert  in  this  place,  satisfied  that  it  received  the  ap- 
probation of  my  friend  the  late  Francis  Newbery,  whose  friendship 
was  an  honour. 

Andrew  Bain,  M.D.  This  gentleman  was  a  member  of  the 
College  of  Physicians,  and  one  of  the  most  eminent  practitioners  in 
London.  Before  he  settled  in  London,  he  acquired  a  high  reputation 
at  Bristol  Hot  Wells.  He  had  attended  the  first  wife  of  Mr.  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan  with  so  much  kindness,  assiduity,  and  solicitude, 
that  on  the  death  of  that  accomplished  lady  at  that  place,  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, though  by  no  means  in  affluent  circumstances,  sent  to  him  a 
hundred  pounds,  enclosed  in  a  letter,  expressive  of  respect  and  gra- 
titude,—a  proof,  as  I  have  before  said,  that  Mr.  Sheridan  only  wanted 
the  means  to  be  just,  honourable,  and  benevolent. 

Dr.  Bain,  by  all  accounts,  was  a  profound  and  elegant  scholar,  of 
which  he  gave  ample  proofs  in  some  Latin  dissertations  on  medical 
subjects.  The  doctor  had  a  son  and  two  daughters.  The  son  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  knowing.  He  was  bred  to  the  church,  and  had  a 
living  at  about  the  distance  of  a  mile  from  his  father's  residence  at 
Heffleton,  in  Devonshire ;  and  this  contiguity  of  the  benefice  enabled 
the  family  to  be  almost  as  often  together  as  if  they  inhabited  the  same 
mansion,  and  a  more  happy  family  never  existed.  The  son  was 
learned  and  affectionate,  and  the  daughters  highly  amiable  and  accom- 
plished. In  the  midst  of  this  cordial  felicity,  a  disastrous  event  oc- 
curred ;  Mr.  Bain  and  a  Mr.  Bosanquet  were  taking  an  excursion  on 
an  adjacent  river,  when  the  boat  was  overturned,  and  both  gentlemen 
perished.  To  augment  the  calamity,  this  melancholy  catastrophe 
happened  within  the  sight  of  the  two  sisters,  who  were  walking  near 
the  spot.  It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  misery  of  the  father 
when  he  heard  the  lamentable  tidings ;  he  never  was  able  to  recover 
his  spirits,  and  died  within  a  few  years  after  this  fatal  deprivation. 

Another  calamity  happened  in  the  family  a  few  years  after.  Dr. 
Bain's  sister  was  married  to  Mr.  Hardie,  a  gentleman  who  held  a 
situation  in  the  East  India  House,  in  which  he  conducted  himself 
with  so  much  propriety,  that  on  his  retirement  he  not  only  enjoyed 
a  liberal  pension,  but  was  presented  with  a  large  sum  for  his  faithful 
and  useful  services.    This  gentleman's  foot  happening  to  slip  as  he 


DR.  BAIN — MR.  CHRISTIE. 


351 


was  going  up  stairs,  he  fell  backwards,  and  was  killed  on  the  spot. 
I  knew  him  well ;  he  was  amiable,  intelligent,  and  good-humoured. 
His  widow,  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing,  felt  an  irreparable 
and  inconsolable  loss  by  the  death  of  this  worthy  man,  but  her  piety 
and  benevolence  enabled  her  to  sustain  it  with  fortitude.  By  her 
intimate  connexion  with  her  brother,  and  his  kind  attention  and  in- 
structions, she  possesses  great  medical  knowledge  and  judgment,  and 
by  her  good  sense  and  experience,  she  is  an  agreeable  and  instructive 
companion. 

Before  Dr.  Bain  retired  from  his  profession,  and  settled  at  his  seat 
in  Devonshire,  he  invited  me  to  dine  with  him,  for  the  purpose  of 
introducing  me  to  Mr.  Charles  Sheridan,  the  son  of  Mr.  R.  B.  Sheri- 
dan, as  one  of  the  old  friends  of  his  father.  Mr.  Charles  Sheridan 
inherits  in  a  great  degree  the  talents  of  his  father.  He  has  travelled 
into  Greece,  and  has  published  a  very  intelligent  tract  upon  the  pre- 
sent situation  of  that  country,  and  on  the  hopes,  expectations,  and 
prospects  of  the  descendants  of  its  ancient  sages,  heroes,  and  poets, 
whose  history,  real  and  fabulous,  will  always  render  them  the  delight 
of  mankind. 

The  late  Mr.  Christie.  With  this  gentleman,  who  was  fully  en- 
titled to  that  designation,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  many 
years,  and  a  more  respectable  character  I  never  knew.  Besides 
being  possessed  of  an  excellent  understanding,  which  would  probably 
have  enabled  him  to  make  a  distinguished  figure  in  any  walk  of  life, 
I  should  venture  to  say  that  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  profes- 
sion which  he  adopted.  There  was  something  interesting  and  per- 
suasive, as  well  as  thoroughly  agreeable  in  his  manner.  He  was  very 
animated,  and  it  may  be  justly  said,  eloquent,  in  his  recommendation 
of  any  article  that  he  announced  from  his  "  Rostrum,"  as  well  as  m 
occasional  effusions  of  genuine  humour.  He  was  courteous,  friendly, 
and  hospitable  in  private  life,  and  was  held  in  great  esteem  by  his 
numerous  friends,  among  whom  there  were  many  of  high  rank. 

It  was  reported,  and  I  believe  truly,  that  he  lost  considerable  pro- 
perty by  his  confidence  in  Mr.  Chace  Price,  a  gentleman  well  known 
in  the  upper  circles  of  his  time,  and  more  admired  for  his  wit  and 
humour  than  for  the  strictness  of  his  moral  principles.  It  was  under- 
stood that  Mr.  Christie's  loss  by  this  gentleman  amounted  to  about 
five  thousand  pounds ;  and  this  event  afforded  an  additional  proof  of 
the  generous  feelings  of  Mr.  Garrick,  who,  hearing  of  the  loss  and  of 
the  high  character  of  Mr.  Christie,  though  but  little  acquainted  with, 
him,  with  great  delicacy  offered  to  accommodate  him  with  the  full 
amount  of  his  loss,  if  his  consequent  situation  rendered  such  assistance 
necessary  or  expedient.  Whether  Mr.  Christie  had  occasion  to  avail 
himself  of  this  liberal  offer,  I  know  not,  but  that  it  was  tendered  is 
certainly  true,  and  it  corresponds  with  the  testimony  in  favour  of 
Mr.  Garrick's  benevolent  disposition,  as  given  by  Dr.  Johnson,  by 
Mr.  Smith  the  actor,  in  several  of  his  letters  to  me,  and  by  my  late 
friend  Mr.  Arthur  Murphy. 

Though  Murphy  was  verv  often  involved  in  dramatic  squabbles, 

Q2 


352 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LITE. 


with  Garrick,  and  used  to  speak  of  him  in  very  harsh  terms,  yet  he 
always  admitted  that  he  was  the  greatest  actor  in  the  world,  and  also 
that  he  was  benevolent  and  generous  in  private  life. 

As  a  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  Mr.  Christie's  character  was " 
held,  particularly  by  the  great  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  a  nobleman  dis- 
tinguished for  his  intellectual  powers  and  knowledge  of  mankind,  as 
well  as  for  the  polish  of  his  manners,  I  relate  the  following  fact,  which 
was  told  to  me  by  my  late  esteemed  friend  Sir  Francis  Bourgeois. 
Mr.  Christie  had  a  particularly  valuable  collection  of  pictures  to  dis- 
pose of,  most  of  which  were  of  very  high  reputation  abroad.  Anxious 
that  this  collection  should  be  distinguished  from  those  of  less  celebrity, 
he  waited  upon  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  to  whom  he  had  the  honour 
of  being  known.    It  happened  that  the  earl  had  seen  many  of  the 
pictures  in  question  during  his  travels.    Mr.  Christie  told  his  lordship 
how  anxious  he  was  that  these  pictures  should  excite  the  attention 
which  they  deserved,  and  he  requested  that  his  lordship  would  con- 
descend to  look  at  them.    His  lordship  promised  to  attend  the  pub- 
lic view,  and  gave  Mr.  Christie  leave  to  announce  his  intention  among 
his  friends,  or  wherever  he  thought  proper,  and  in  order  to  give  eclat 
to  the  occasion  he  promised  to  come  in  state.  On  the  day  appointed, 
therefore,  the  room  was  crowded  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  this 
venerable  and  celebrated  nobleman,  who  arrived  in  a  coach  and  six 
with  numerous  attendants.    The  company  gave  way  and  afforded 
a  convenient  space  for  his  lordship.    He  was  attended  by  Mr. 
Christie,  who  took  the  liberty  of  directing  his  lordship's  attention  to 
some  pictures,  and  requested  to  be  favoured  with  his  opinion  of  the 
chief  productions  in  the  room.    The  earl,  who  came  merely  to  serve 
Mr.  Christie,  spoke  in  high  terms  of  several  of  the  pictures  which 
he  had  seen  on  his  travels,  and  also  of  others  pointed  out  to  him  by 
Mr.  Christie,  as  if  they  were  equally  recollected  by  him.    The  audi- 
tors pressed  as  near  as  respect  for  his  lordship  would  permit  them,  in 
order  to  hear  and  circulate  his  opinions.  After  remaining  in  the  room 
till  the  purpose  of  his  visit  was  fully  accomplished,  to  the  gratification 
of  the  company,  his  lordship,  gracefully  bowing,  retired  in  the  same 
state,  accompanied  to  his  carriage  by  Mr.  Christie ;  and  the  result 
was,  that  the  additional  reputation  which  the  collection  acquired  by 
his  lordship's  condescension  in  supporting  this  ingenious  expedient, 
enabled  Mr.  Christie  to  sell  it  to  the  best  advantage.   It  need  not  to 
be  observed,  that  if  Mr.  Christie  had  not  been  held  in  much  esteem 
by  his  lordship,  the  earl  would  hardly  have  been  induced  to  act  this 
kind  and  condescending  part  in  his  favour.    It  may  not  improperly 
be  said  that  Lord  Chesterfield  himself  derived  some  advantage  on 
this  occasion :  for  in  addition  to  his  high  character  as  a  statesman 
and  a  wit,  it  also  gave  him  the  reputation  of  a  judicious  connoisseur, 
as  well  as  that  of  a  condescending  patron. 

I  remember  calling  on  Mr.  Christie  one  morning,  just  before  he 
was  going  into  his  great  room  to  dispose  of  an  estate.  Always  alive 
to  the  interest  of  his  employers,  he  requested  that  I  would  act  as  a 
bidder.    I  observed,  that  if  any  of  my  friends  happened  to  be  present 


MR.  CHRISTIE — SIR  HOME  POPHAM. 


353 


they  would  laugh  if  they  saw  me  come  forward  on  such  an  occasion, 
and  that,  as  it  would  be  totally  new  to  me,  I  should  commit  some 
blunder.  He  however  repeated  his  request,  and  I  assented.  It 
happened  as  I  apprehended,  for  I  made  a  bidding  beyond  that  of  a 
bona  fide  purchaser,  who  would  go  no  farther,  and  the  estate  was 
knocked  down  to  me.  I  apologized  for  my  blundering  ignorance, 
which  Mr.  Christie  treated  with  his  usual  good-nature  and  affability, 
and  insisted  on  my  staying  to  dine  with  the  family. 

Mr.  Christie  was  loyal  and  firm  in  his  political  principles,  and 
moral  and  just  in  his  private  conduct.  I  have  not  only  had  the  plea- 
sure of  dining  with  him  at  his  own  house,  but  of  meeting  him  at 
other  tables,  where  he  was  treated  with  the  respect  and  attention  to 
which  he  was  fully  entitled  by  his  good  sense,  general  intelligence, 
and  courteous  demeanour.  He  had  two  sons,  one  of  whom  went  in 
a  military  character  to  the  East  Indies,  where,  1  understand,  he  died 
in  the  service  of  his  country.    He  was  a  very  fine  young  man. 

Of  the  present  Mr.  Christie,  who  inherits  the  profession  and  the 
disposition  of  his  father,  it  is  proper  that  I  should  speak  with  reserve, 
lest  I  should  offend  his  delicacy  by  what  his  diffidence  might  con- 
sider as  unmerited  panegyric  ;  nor  is  it  necessary,  as  he  has  obliged 
the  world  with  some  publications  which  not  only  demonstrate  his 
learning,  judgment,  and  deep  research,  but  which  are  marked  by  un- 
affected piety.  Indeed,  I  heard  that  he  was  educated  for  the  church, 
of  which,  from  his  classical  attainments  and  the  purity  of  his  morals, 
he  would  doubtless  have  proved  a  distinguished  ornament.  He  holds 
a  very  high  rank  in  his  profession,  and  is  mentioned  with  great  re- 
spect by  all  his  competitors.  I  have  long  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
acquainted  with  him,  and  number  him  among  the  most  valuable  of  my 
friends.  It  is  with  pleasure  I  add,  that  he  is  favoured  with  the  friend- 
ship of  many  persons  of  high  rank,  as  well  as  with  that  of  many  of  the 
most  learned  and  enlightened  members  of  the  church.  The  late  Mr. 
Christie  had  been  twice  married.  His  son  is  the  issue  of  his  first 
marriage,  and  his  widow  is  living  with  a  respectable  competency. 


CHAPTER  L. 

The  late  Sir  Home  Popham,  and  the  late  Sir  Thomas  Boulden 
Thompson,  were  among  my  juvenile  friends.  The  talents  and  valour 
of  Sir  Home  are  well  known  to  the  world  at  large,  but  it  is  not 
equally  known  that  with  all  his  ardour  for  his  profession,  and  his 
skill  in  naval  tactics,  evident  in  some  signals  which  he  invented,  and. 
which  I  understood  were  highly  approved,  he  was  a  good  general 
scholar.  I  once  wrote  a  poetical  epitaph  on  a  late  great  admiral  of 
merited  professional  eminence,  but  of  a  stern,  vindictive,  and  unre- 
lenting character,  a  copy  of  which  was  often  requested  by  some  of 


354 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


my  naval  and  other  friends,  but  from  a  regard  to  my  own  personal 
security  always  refused.  It  was,  however,  so  eagerly  desired,  that 
I  was  often  requested  to  read  it  in  company,  and  therefore  at  that 
time  generally  carried  a  copy  in  my  pocket.  On  one  occasion,  after 
I  had  read  it,  a  friend  endeavoured  to  snatch  it  from  me,  and  his  wife 
knowing  his  wishes,  made  the  same  attempt ;  but  as  their  hands 
struck  against  each  other,  I  was  able  to  rescue  my  manuscript,  and 
from  that  time  I  only  carried  the  first  word  of  each  line,  relying  upon 
my  memory  for  the  rest,  and  used  to  repeat  the  whole  without  the 
danger  of  a  seizure. 

Sir  Home  Popham  used  to  call  on  me  occasionally  to  hear  it,  and 
one  morning  while  1  was  reading  it  to  him,  I  observed  that  he  was 
writing  during  the  time  on  a  piece  of  paper  before  him,  and  appre- 
hending that  he  was  taking  my  lines  in  short-hand,  I  stopped,  and 
looking  at  what  he  was  about,  found  that  he  was  actually  taking  it  in 
Greek  characters  to  disarm  my  suspicion. 

I  may  be  thought  extremely  vain  in  thus  recording  my  trifle,  but  1 
may  appeal  to  my  old  and  worthy  friend  Sir  Francis  Hartwell,  whose 
friendship  I  have  the  pleasure  to  retain,  whether  such  was  not  its  in- 
fluence at  the  time.  Sir  Home  Popham's  friendship  with  me  con- 
tinued to  his  death,  by  which  I  lost  a  valuable  companion,  and  the 
nation  a  gallant  and  able  officer.  And  now  for  a  proof  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  friendship. 

I  was  equally  intimate  with,  and  attached  to  Sir  Thomas  Boulden 
Thompson.  He  was  the  reputed  nephew  of  Captain  Thompson, 
generally  called  Commodore  Thompson,  a  gentleman  of  agreeable 
manners  and  well-known  literary  talents.  He  was  the  author  of 
many  admired  compositions  in  verse  and  prose ;  and  he  published  a 
correct  and  valuable  edition  of  the  works  of  Andrew  Marvel,  proving 
that  the  well-known  ballad  of  "  Margaret's  Ghost"  was  written  by 
that  sturdy  and  disinterested  patriot,  and  not  by  Mallet,  who  usurped 
the  reputation  ;  as  also  that  admirable  hymn  beginning  with 

The  glorious  firmament  on  high, 

which  Addison  introduced  into  "  The  Spectator,"  without  claiming 
the  merit  of  writing  it,  but  nevertheless,  leaving  the  world  to  con- 
sider it  as  his  composition. 

Sir  Thomas  told  me  more  than  once,  that  though  he  was  generally 
reputed  to  be  the  nephew  of  Captain  Thompson,  he  knew  of  no  other 
father, — a  proof,  at  least,  that  the  captain  had  been  a  truly  affection- 
ate uncle.  Sir  Thomas,  during  our  early  acquaintance,  resided  at 
Epsom,  and  was  frequently  in  the  habit  of  sending;  me  game.  He 
often  said,  that  if  he  ever  became  an  admiral,  I  should  be  his  secre- 
tary, if  no  better  prospect  offered.  After  his  gallant  and  skilful 
conduct  at  the  battle  of  the  Nile,  he  again  resided  at  Epsom,  and  I 
remember  that  when  he  sent  me  a  hare,  in  returning  my  thanks  I 
said  in  my  letter,  that  I  should  think  I  was  eating  a  lion,  and  hoped 


SIR  T.  B.  THOMPSON — MR.  FRANKS. 


355 


that  it  would  inspire  me  with  such  valour  as  he  had  displayed  in  the 
service  of  his  country. 

When  he  called  on  me  after  the  battle  of  Copenhagen,  and  I  saw 
his  wooden  leg,  I  could  not  help  shedding  tears  to  see  a  friend  so 
disabled ;  but  forcing  a  smile,  I  said,  "  There's  now  an  end  to  my  sec- 
retaryship." "  Why  so  V  said  he  ;  "  if  I  am  again  employed  as  an 
admiral,  I  shall  keep  my  promise.*'  He  soon  after  became  comp- 
troller of  the  navy-board,  and  meeting  him  at  the  Admiralty,  I  asked 
if  he  could  give  any  situation  to  compensate  for  my  disappointment  as 
secretary.  He  told  me  that  he  had  no  power,  as  the  Admiralty  en- 
grossed all  the  patronage  ;  and  from  that  time  our  friendship  ended. 
When  I  met  him  afterward,  he  gave  me  a  slight  bow,  and  at  last  we 
used  to  pass  each  other  as  if  we  had  never  been  acquainted.  I  could 
not  but  regret  that  so  manly  a  character,  and  so  gallant  and  able  an 
officer,  was  not  superior  to  the  pride  which  arose  from  his  gradual 
elevation,  and  the  consequent  disparity  of  my  condition.  Alas  !  for 
poor  human  nature  ! 

Mr.  Franks.  This  gentleman,  whom  I  knew  many  years  ago, 
was  of  the  Jewish  persuasion,  but  with  a  truly  Christian  disposition. 
He  was,  I  believe,  a  merchant  before  I  knew  him,  but  had  retired 
from  business,  and  resided  at  Mortlake.  He  was  so  highly  esteemed 
in  that  village  and  the  neighbourhood,  that  he  was  chosen  church- 
warden, an  office  which  he  willingly  assumed  and  discharged  in  such 
a  manner  as  fully  to  confirm  and  augment  the  reputation  he  had  ac- 
quired. He  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  a  good  judge  of  musical 
performers.  I  heard  him  relate  the  following  anecdote,  at  the  table 
of  my  old  friend  the  Rev.  Richard  Penneck. 

Mr.  Franks  said,  that  an  admirable  performer,  named  Dupuis, 
came  from  Paris  with  an  introduction  to  him  as  a  patron  of  music  ; 
that  Dupuis  was  one  of  the  finest,  if  not  the  best,  performer  on  the 
violin  he  had  ever  heard.  His  talents  soon  procured  him  an  intro- 
duction into  the  best  societies,  and  the  patronage  which  he  expe- 
rienced enabled  him  to  live  in  a  very  splendid  manner.  After  ac- 
quiring a  high  reputation  and  good  connexions,  he  was  suddenly 
missed,  and  nobody  could  tell  what  had  become  of  him.  A  few 
years  passed  and  his  skill  was  not  forgotten,  nor  curiosity  as  to  his 
fate  much  abated.  At  length  Mr.  Franks  had  almost  ceased  to  re- 
member and  to  inquire  about  him.  Happening  to  pass  through  the 
place  where  May  Fair  was  formerly  held,  at  the  fair-time,  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a  violin  in  a  common  public-house,  where  a  show  was 
exhibited.  Struck  by  the  admirable  skill  of  the  performance,  he  ven- 
tured into  the  house,  and  immediately  recognised  his  old  favourite 
Dupuis,  who  knew  him  also,  but  did  not  affect  to  conceal  himself. 
When  he  had  concluded  his  solo,  Dupuis,  who  had  been  so  great  a 
beau,  and  who  then  was  attired  in  a  very  shabby  garb,  like  a  low 
workman,  retired  into  a  back-room  with  Mr.  Franks,  and  addressed 
him  as  follows  : — "  My  old  and  esteemed  friend,  you  may  naturally 
wonder  to  see  me  in  such  a  place  and  in  such  humble  attire,  but  the 
secret  is  this ;  I  am  in  love  with  the  daughter  of  the  man  who  is  exhib- 


356 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


iting  a  show  in  this  house,  and  while  I  appear  on  a  level  with  herself, 
I  have  6ome  chance  of  her  favour ;  but  if  I  were  to  appear  like  a  gen- 
tleman, all  my  hopes  would  be  at  an  end,  and  her  smiles  would  be 
transferred  to  some  vulgar  rival.  But  I  begin  to  be  disgusted  with 
this  degrading  state ;  I  shall  try  my  fortune  with  the  family  a  few 
days  longer,  then  assume  my  former  rank  in  society,  and  you  shall  be 
the  first  person  to  whom  I  shall  pay  my  respects." 

Mr.  Franks  said  that  he  was  of  course  satisfied  with  this  explana- 
tion, and  parted  from  him,  not  surprised  at  the  transformations  which 
Jove  produces  in  gods,  according  to  the  poets,  as  well  as  men,  and 
confidently  expected  to  see  Dupuis  in  a  few  days,  after  he  had  con- 
quered or  gratified  his  passion.  But  no  Dupuis  appeared,  and  Mr. 
Franks  therefore  went  to  the  public-house,  in  order  to  discover  some 
clew  to  him.  The  fair  had  been  ended  some  days,  and  the  landlord 
could  not  give  any  information  respecting  the  amorous  minstrel,  nor 
did  Mr.  Franks  ever  hear  of  him  again.  Judging  from  his  altered 
manners,  as  well  as  his  mean  attire,  Mr.  Franks  inferred  that  he 
had  sunk  in  life,  that  he  had  become  reconciled  to  the  grovelling  con- 
dition to  which  he  was  reduced,  but  that  his  story  was  a  mere  pre- 
tence, as  he  saw  no  beauty  there  that  could  be  supposed  to  ensnare 
him.  Mr.  Franks  concluded  with  saying,  that  Dupuis  had  no  occa- 
sion to  withdraw  himself  from  creditors,  as  his  talents  provided  him 
the  power  of  living  like  a  gentleman. 

Mr.  John  Reeves.  The  country,  in  my  humble  opinion,  was 
deeply  indebted  to  this  gentleman,  who  came  resolutely  forward  at  a 
very  critical  period,  when  certain  aspiring  demagogues  were  attempt- 
ing to  introduce  the  revolutionary  principles  of  France  into  England, 
and  when  the  language  of  some  of  the  public  journals  strongly  abetted 
their  rebellious  intentions.  At  this  momentous  crisis,  he  stood  forth 
as  the  champion  of  the  British  constitution.  He  convened  a  meeting 
of  loyal  men,  and  formed  a  committee  at  the  Crown  and  Anchor 
tavern j  in  the  Strand,  for  the  purpose  of  circulating  tracts  to  coun- 
teract the  insidious  and  anarchical  principles  of  revolutionary  France. 
This  loyal  society  held  frequent  meetings  at  that  tavern,  and  dissem- 
inated innumerable  pamphlets,  calculated  to  refute  the  sophistical  doc- 
trines of  the  French  orators,  and  our  democratical  writers,  and  to 
guard  the  British  people  against  the  impending  danger.  My  late 
friends  Mr.  John  Bowles  and  Mr.  William  Combe,  were  the  authors 
of  many  of  these  pamphlets,  which  were  widely  diffused  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  committee  at  the  Crown  and  Anchor  tavern. 

Mr.  Bowles  published  a  tract,  written  with  great  vigour  and  ele- 
gance, which  he  entitled  "  A  Protest  against  Paine."  Mr.  Combe 
wrote  another  entitled  "A  Word  in  Season;"  and  also, "  Plain  Thoughts 
of  a  Plain  Man,  with  a  word,  en  passant,  to  Mr.  Erskine,"  afterward 
Lord  Erskine,  who  had  been  ensnared  by  French  doctrines,  and  had 
published  a  pamphlet  in  support  of  their  principles.  Mr.  Reeves  also 
at  the  same  period  published  his  four  letters,  addressed  to  the  quiet 
good  sense  of  the  people  of  England.  They  were  written  with  great 
vigour,  sound  reasoning,  and  contained  much  historical  illustration. 


MR.  JOHN  REEVES  MR.  JOHN  BOWLES. 


357 


Perhaps  he  treated  too  lightly  the  hereditary  and  representative 
branches  of  the  British  constitution,  but  he  powerfully  maintained 
that  it  was  founded  on  the  basis  of  monarchy. 

Mr.  Sheridan  hastily  condemned  these  letters,  and  instigated  a  pros- 
ecution against  the  author,  who,  however,  was  acquitted  by  the  laws 
of  the  land.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Mr.  Sheridan  came  forward 
so  indiscreetly  on  this  occasion,  as  on  other  points  in  which  his  party 
had  supported  dangerous  measures,  he  acted  with  an  independent 
spirit,  and  was  styled  "  the  glorious  exception."  He  was  too  indolent 
and  too  prone  to  personal  indulgences  to  have  studied  the  constitution 
with  the  zeal  and  assiduity  with  which  Mr.  Reeves  explored  its  na- 
ture, and  became  profoundly  conversant  with  its  essential  principles. 

Mr.  Reeves  was  the  author  of  many  legal  and  political  tracts,  and 
was  through  life  distinguished  for  zealous  loyalty.  He  was  at  West- 
minster school,  and  afterward  at  the  university  of  Oxford,  at  the  time 
when  Mr.  Combe  was  at  the  latter  place.  Mr.  Reeves  was  very 
rich  and  very  liberal.  He  adopted  the  son  of  his  friend  Mr.  Brown, 
an  old  fellow-collegian,  supported  him  in  his  own  house,  and  took  the 
trouble  of  teaching  him  Greek.  The  boy,  however,  proved  a  dissi- 
pated and  worthless  character,  and  was  thrown  into  the  Fleet  prison  by 
his  creditors.  Mr.  Reeves  released  him  at  the  expense  of  1500/.,  and 
took  him  again  into  favour ;  he  died  soon  after,  but  if  he  had  lived  and 
reformed,  he  would  probably  have  inherited  the  bulk  of  Mr.  Reeves's 
large  fortune. 

1  must  here  say  something  more  of  my  friend  Mr.  John  Bowles. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  him  very  early  in  life, 
and  always  found  him  firmly  loyal  and  honourable.  We  both  at  the 
same  time  frequented  an  oratorical  club,  styled  the  Robin  Hood  Soci- 
ety, held  in  Butcher-row,  Strand.  Mr.  Bowles,  who  was  then  pre- 
paring himself  for  the  bar,  often  spoke  at  that  place,  and  was  heard 
with  respect.  My  other  old  friend,  the  present  Mr.  Justice  Garrow, 
who  had  then  the  same  views,  was  also  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
orators  at  that  society,  and  powerfully  displayed  those  talents  which 
have  since  rendered  him  so  conspicuous  at  the  bar,  and  raised  him 
to  his  present  well-merited  elevation. 

Before  our  time  the  president  of  the  society  had  been  a  Mr.  Jacocks, 
a  baker,  in  Soho.  He  was  a  man  of  profound  sagacity.  After  the 
several  speakers  had  delivered  their  sentiments,  he  summed  up  the 
arguments  of  the  whole,  and  concluded  with  declaring  his  own  opin- 
ion upon  the  subject  in  discussion :  and  always  received  the  warm 
acclamations  of  the  audience.  The  great  Earl  of  Chesterfield  fre- 
quently attended  this  society  incog.,  attracted  chiefly  by  the  abilities 
of  the  president,  whom  I  have  heard  it  said,  he  pronounced  to  be  fit 
for  a  prime  minister.  My  father,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
abilities  of  Mr.  Jacocks,  though  not  personally  known  to  him,  once 
pointed  him  out  to  me  in  the  street.  I  recollect  him  well,  and  never 
saw  a  more  venerable  figure.  His  house  is  still  occupied  by  a  baker, 
and  is  situated  very  near  Monmouth- street. 

Mr.  Bowles,  conceiving  that  the  danger,  though  suspended,  was  not 

Q3 


358 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE, 


at  an  end.  continued  to  publish  many  works  in  support  of  the  British 
constitution  ;  hut  at  length,  modestly  thinking  that  his  name  was  too 
often  before  the  public,  sent  forth  his  latter  works  anonymously.  He 
was  appointed  one  of  the  Dutch  commissioners,  and  devoted  his  time 
to  the  investigation  and  arrangement  of  the  complicated  subject  in 
discussion.  The  commissioners  were  charged  with  unnecessary  de- 
lay, and  even  of  deriving  undue  pecuniary  advantages  from  a  prolon- 
gation of  the  inquiry,  but  Mr.  Bowles  came  forward  in  defence  of  him- 
self and  colleagues,  and  published  a  satisfactory  vindication. 

In  justice  to  a  gentleman  named  Jennings,  who  brought  the  charges, 
it  is  proper  to  mention,  that  he  also  published  a  pamphlet,  in  which  he 
liberally  acknowledged  that  he  was  mistaken,  and  had  proceeded  upon 
erroneous  grounds. 

Mr.  Bowles  was  very  intimate  with  Mr.  Reeves  and  Mr.  George 
Chalmers,  and  I  had  several  times  the  pleasure  of  accompanying  those 
gentleman  to  dine  with  him  on  his  retirement  to  Dulwich,  conveyed 
in  Mr.  Reeves's  carriage.  I  remember  with  much  pleasure  these  oc- 
casions, as  we  were  highly  gratified  by  Mr.  Bowles  and  his  amiable 
lady.  Mr.  Bowles  was  warmly  attached  to  Mr.  Pitt.  From  motives 
of  old  friendship,  and  sympathy  of  political  principles,  he  bequeathed 
one  hundred  pounds  to  me  in  his  will,  and  Mrs.  Bowles  also  favoured 
me  with  a  mourning-ring,  as  a  confirmation  of  the  friendship  of  her 
lamented  husband. 

|  Mr.  William  Shield.  Perhaps  there  never  was  an  individual  more 
respected,  esteemed,  and  admired  than  this  late  eminent  composer. 
With  a  shrewd,  intelligent,  and  reflecting  mind,  and  a  manly  spirit, 
there  was  a  simplicity  in  his  manners  that  obviously  indicated  the  be- 
nevolence of  his  disposition.  Of  his  musical  merits  it  would  be  unne- 
cessary for  me  to  speak,  as  his  compositions  were  universally  admired 
for  their  deep  science  as  well  as  for  their  fancy,  taste,  and  sensibility. 
His  martial  airs  are  characterized  by  bold  expression  and  powerful 
effect.  He  was  particularly  esteemed  by  all  his  musical  brethren, 
and  a  numerous  train  of  private  friends. 

I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  taking  Mr.  Shield  to  drink  tea  with  the 
veteran  poet  and  musician  Charles  Dibdin  the  elder.  They  had  never 
met  before,  and  it  was  not  a  little  gratifying  to  me  to  witness  the  cor- 
diality with  which  these  congenial  spirits  received  each  other.  I  also 
introduced  Mr.  Battishill,  an  eminent  composer  and  performer,  and 
Mr.  Shield  to  each  other  for  the  first  time. 

Mr.  M.  G.  Lewis,  better  known  by  the  name  of  Monk  Lewis.  I 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  gentleman,  though  we  both 
mixed  so  much  with  the  theatrical  world ;  I  only  knew  his  person. 
But  his  character  was  so  much  respected,  and  his  literary  and  dra- 
matic talents  rendered  him  at  once  so  conspicuous,  that  he  should  not 
be  passed  without  notice.  His  father  held  a  situation  in  the  war- 
office,  and  allowed  his  son  800/.  a-year,  while  the  latter  was  in  parlia- 
ment. His  parents  had  been  separated  some  years,  and  as  the  mother's 
allowance  was  scanty,  the  son,  with  true  filial  affection,  gave  a  moiety 
of  his  income  for  her  support.    When  the  father  heard  of  this  act  of 


MONK  LEWIS — COLONEL  FREDERICK. 


359 


filial  affection,  he  observed,  that  if  his  son  could  live  upon  400Z.  a-year, 
he  should  reduce  his  income  to  that  sum.  The  son  then,  at  the  haz- 
ard of  a  similar  reduction,  again  divided  his  income  with  his  mother. 
Such  conduct  ought  to  be  recorded. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Mr.  Lewis  wrote  his  celebrated  romance 
entitled  "  The  Monk,"  though  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  work 
displays  great  invention  and  descriptive  power,  and  considerable 
poetic  excellence.  As  this  gentleman  was  much  courted  by  the 
higher  circles,  and  was  a  popular  author,  it  is  strange  that  he  should 
have  sunk  into  the  grave  with  as  little  notice  as  if  he  were  a  common 
individual.  He  had  visited  the  West  Indies  to  look  after  some  pro- 
perty which  devolved  to  him,  and  as  he  was  returning  to  this  country, 
died  on  the  passage.  His  death  was  simply  noticed  in  the  public 
journals,  merely  by  his  name,  though  some  tribute  to  his  talents  and 
his  memory  might  naturally  be  expected.  His  "  Castle  Spectre" 
was  very  popular  and  attractive,  and  was  of  great  advantage  to 
Drury-lane  theatre.  The  following  is  told  respecting  this  piece, 
for  which  he  had  not  received  his  profits  as  the  author.  In  some 
argumentative  dispute  with  Mr.  Sheridan,  Mr.  Lewis,  meaning  to 
reproach  Mr.  Sheridan  for  delaying  the  pecuniary  recompense 
due  to  the  author,  offered  to  lay  a  sum  equal  to  what  the  theatre 
had  derived  from  "  The  Castle  Spectre,"  that  he  was  in  the  right. 
"  No,"  said  Mr.  Sheridan,  "  I  will  not  lay  so  large  a  sum  as  what 
the  piece  brought,  but  I  will  readily  hazard  what  it  is  intrinsically 
worth."  Soon  after  this  satirical  sally  the  author  was  duly  re- 
warded. 

Colonel  Frederick,  whom  I  have  mentioned  before  as  the  son 
of  Theodore,  King  of  Corsica  by  the  voluntary  choice  of  a  whole 
people,  was  a  particular  friend  of  mine.  He  told  me  he  was  once 
in  so  much  distress,  that  when  he  waited  the  result  of  a  petition  at 
the  court  of  Vienna,  he  had  actually  been  two  days  without  food. 
On  the  third  day  a  lady  in  attendance  on  the  court,  whom  he  had 
previously  addressed  on  the  subject  of  his  petition,  observing  his  lan- 
guid and  exhausted  state,  offered  him  some  refreshment ;  he  of  course 
consenting,  she  ordered  him  a  dish  of  chocolate,  with  some  cakes, 
which  rendered  him  more  able  to  converse  with  her :  in  a  short 
time  they  conceived  a  regard  for  each  other,  and  were  afterward 
married. 

He  told  me  she  stated  that  her  reason  for  delaying  to  procure  an 
answer  to  his  petition  was  in  order  to  prolong  the  intercourse  between 
them.  How  long  the  lady  lived  I  know  not ;  as  I  enjoyed  his  com- 
pany, but  did  not  think  proper  to  inquire  more  of  his  history  than 
he  was  disposed  to  relate.  He  had  a  son  whom  I  knew,  a  very  ele- 
gant young  man,  who  was  an  officer  in  the  British  army,  and  was 
killed  in  the  American  war.  He  had  a  daughter  also,  named  Clarke, 
whom  I  knew  after  the  colonel's  death.  She  had,  I  believe,  some 
offspring,  but  to  whom  she  had  been  married,  and  what  became  of 
her  family,  I  never  knew. 

I  remember  that  in  the  short  interview  which  I  had  with  her,  in 


360 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


consequence  of  the  death  of  her  father,  she  showed  me  the  great 
seal,  and  some  regalia  of  the  crown  of  Corsica,  which  her  grand- 
father had  retained  in  the  wreck  of  his  fortunes.  The  colonel  told  me 
that  he  was  once  in  the  condition  of  a  reading  secretary  to  the  great 
Frederick,  King  of  Prussia,  but  he  was  treated  by  that  monarch  with 
such  proud  austerity  that  he  grew  tired  of  the  service,  and  particu- 
larly as  Voltaire,  and  other  profligate  philosophers,  were  suffered  to 
converse  with  the  monarch  at  table,  while  Frederick  was  obliged  to 
stand  in  the  room  all  the  time.  At  length,  having  applied  to  the 
Duke  of  Wirtemburg,  to  whom  his  father  was  related,  he  was  offered 
protection  at  his  court.  When  he  informed  tiie  King  of  Prussia  of 
this  arrangement,  the  latter  said,  u  Ay,  you  may  go,  it  is  fit  that  one 
beggar  should  live  with  another/'  The  colonel  afterward  joined  his 
father  during  his  adversity  in  this  country,  and  I  believe  supported 
himself  as  a  teacher  of  languages,  for  which  I  understood  him  to  be 
well  qualified.    lie  related  to  me  the  following  curious  incident. 

lie  said  that  while  his  father  was  in  the  Fleet  prison  for  debt,. 
Sir  John  Stewart  was  a  fellow-prisoner  on  the  same  account.  The 
latter  had  a  turkey  presented  to  him  by  a  friend,  and  he  invited  King 
Theodore  and  his  son  to  partake  of  it.  Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  of 
the  party.  She  had  her  child,  and  a  girl  with  her  as  a  maid-servant, 
to  carry  the  child  ;  she  lived  in  an  obscure  lodging  at  Chelsea.  In 
the  evening,  Colonel  Frederick  offered  to  attend  her  home,  and  she 
accepted  his  courtesy.  The  child  was  carried  in  turn  by  the  mother, 
the  girl,  and  the  colonel.  On  their  journey  he  said  there  was  a  slight 
rain,  and  common  civility  would  have  induced  him  to  call  a  coach, 
but  that  he  had  no  money  in  his  pocket,  and  he  was  afraid  that  Lady 
Jane  was  in  the  same  predicament.  He  was  therefore  obliged  to 
submit  to  the  suspicion  of  churlish  meanness  or  poverty,  and  to  con- 
tent himself  with  occasionally-  carrying  the  child  to  the  end  of  the 
journey. 

The  colonel  used  to  consider  that  child  as  the  rightful  claimant  of 
the  property  on  which  he  was  opposed  by  the  guardians  of  the  Duke 
of  Hamilton  ;  but  whether  his  conjecture  corresponds  with  the  date 
of  the  transactions  which  took  place  in  relation  to  the  Douglas  cause, 
is  not  within  my  knowledge.  It  is  proper  to  observe,  that  Colonel 
Frederick  stated  his  father  to  have  been  in  the  Fleet  prison,  but  in  a 
periodical  paper  entitled  "  The  World/'  published  in  the  year  in 
which  a  subscription  was  proposed  for  the  relief  of  King  Theodore, 
he  is  represented  as  being  then  in  the  King's  Bench  prison. 

The  letters  of  Mr.  Andrew  Stewart,  one  of  the  guardians  of  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton,  addressed  to  Lord  Mansfield  on  this  subject,  are 
well  known  for  diligent  research,  accurate  reasoning,  and  a  spirit  of 
candour  thoroughly  consistent  with  zeal  in  the  cause,  and  good 
breeding.  These  letters,  as  far  as  I  understood,  were  thought  to 
carry  truth  and  conviction  to  the  minds  of  all  who  were  not  interested 
in  the  pretensions  of  the  claimant.  Here  I  may  properly  introduce 
a  manuscript  note  which  was  given  to  me  by  the  late  Reverend 
Richard  Penneck.    He  had  lent  me  Mr.  Andrew  Stewart's  letters, 


COLONEL  FREDERICK. 


361 


and  he  gave  me  this  note  as  corroborative  of  Mr.  Stewart's  facts  and 
reasonings.  This  note,  which  I  copy  from  Mr.  Penneck's  hand- 
writing, is  as  follows : — 

*  The  reader,  it  is  presumed,  cannot  be  surprised,  perhaps  he  may- 
be pleased,  at  being  informed  that  Monsieur  Menager,  whom  he  will 
find  so  often  mentioned  in  these  letters  as  accoucheur,  has  been  sent 
to  the  galleys  for  life,  for  being  concerned  in  a  fraudulent  business 
similar  to  the  affair  in  question.  This  is  an  unquestionable  fact." 
Mr.  Penneck  adds,  "  This  note  was  found  by  a  worthy  friend  in  the 
frontispiece  of  the  work  (in  MS.)  in  his  possession." 

The  colonel  related  to  me  another  curious  anecdote,  on  which  I 
rely,  as  I  always  found  him  consistent  in  his  narrations.  When 
Prince  Poniatowski,  who  was  afterward  Stanislaus,  the  last  King  of 
Poland,  was  in  this  country,  his  chief,  I  might  perhaps  truly  say,  his 
only  companion  was  Colonel  Frederick.  They  were  accustomed  to 
walk  together  round  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  and  to  dine  at  a  tavern 
or  common  eating-house.  On  one  occasion  the  prince  had  some  bills 
to  discount  in  the  city,  and  took  Frederick  with  him  to  transact  the 
business.  The  prince  remained  at  Batson's  Coffee-house,  Cornhill, 
while  Frederick  was  employed  on  the  bills.  Some  impediment  oc- 
curredj  which  prevented  the  affair  from  being  settled  that  day,  and 
they  proceeded  on  their  usual  walk  before  dinner,  round  Islington. 
After  their  walk  they  went  to  Dolly's,  in  Paternoster-row.  Their 
dinner  was  beef-steaks,  a  pot  of  porter,  and  a  bottle  of  port.  The 
bill  was  presented  to  the  prince,  who,  on  looking  over  it,  said  it  was 
reasonable,  and  handed  it  to  Frederick,  who  concurred  in  the  same 
opinion,  and  returned  it  to  the  prince,  who  desired  him  to  pay.  "  I 
have  no  money,"  said  Frederick.  "  Nor  have  I,"  said  the  prince. 
"  What  are  we  to  do  ?"  he  added.  Frederick  paused  a  few  moments, 
then  desiring  the  prince  to  remain  until  he  returned,  left  the  place, 
pledged  his  watch  at  the  nearest  pawnbroker's,  and  thus  discharged 
the  reckoning.  My  old  friend  Mr.  Const,  chairman  of  the  Middle- 
sex sessions,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  Frederick,  says,  that 
the  article  pledged  was  not  Frederick's  watch,  but  the  prince's  cane, 
which  he  held  in  great  value ;  yet,  as  far  as  my  recollection  serves, 
it  was  the  watch. 

The  prince,  after  he  became  monarch  of  Poland,  occasionally  kept 
up  an  intercourse  with  Frederick,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  asked 
the  latter  if  he  remembered  when  they  were  "  in  pawn  at  a  London 
tavern." 

The  colonel  had  lodged  in  Northumberland-street,  in  the  Strand, 
long  before  I  knew  him  ;  and  according  to  the  account  which  I  heard 
from  Mr.  Const,  was  obliged  to  fly  half  naked  from  the  house,  which 
had  taken  fire,  and  was  received  into  that  of  Mr.  Stirling,  the  present 
respectable  coroner  for  the  county  of  Middlesex,  who  resided  in  the 
same  street.  Mr.  Stirling  offered  the  colonel  an  asylum  in  his  own 
house  gratuitously,  and  allotted  to  him  the  second  floor,  where  he  re- 
sided for  many  years. 

The  colonel's  conversation  on  the  classics,  on  military  transactions^ 


362 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  on  the  great  German  generals  of  that  period,  was  highly  instruct- 
ive and  amusing.  While  very  much  respected,  and  at  all  times  an 
acceptable  guest  to  many  friends,  he  was  unfortunately  induced  by 
an  acquaintance  to  accept  two  notes.  The  man,  who  was  a  trading 
justice  at  that  time,  died  before  the  notes  became  due,  and  Frede- 
rick, seeing  that  he  should  be  responsible  without  any  pecuniary 
resource,  and  apprehensive  of  confinement  in  a  jail,  formed  the  des- 
perate design  of  suicide,  borrowed  a  pistol  of  a  friend,  and  shot 
himself  one  evening,  in  the  church-yard  of  St.  Margaret,  Westmin- 
ster. He  called  on  me  on  the  Wednesday  previous  to  this  fatal 
act,  which  took  place  on  the  following  Friday.  I  was  at  home,  but 
ordered  myself  to  be  denied,  as  I  was  then  practising  as  an  oculist, 
and  was  at  the  time  going  to  visit  a  patient,  whose  case  did  not  admit 
of  delay.  I,  however,  heard  him  inquire  for  me  with  the  same 
vivid  spirit  with  which  he  generally  spoke,  and  bitterly  reproached 
myself  for  not  having  seen  him  when  he  called,  as  it  struck  me  that 
something  might  have  arisen  in  conversation  to  have  prevented  the 
dreadful  event. 

The  colonel,  by  his  constant  reading  of  classic  authors,  had  im- 
bued his  mind  with  a  kind  of  Roman  indifference  of  life.  He  arose 
generally  very  early  in  the  morning,  lighted  the  fire  when  the  season 
required  it,  cleaned  his  boots,  prepared  himself  for  a  walk,  took  his 
breakfast,  then  read  the  classical  authors  until  it  was  time  to  take  ex- 
ercise and  visit  his  friends.  This  even  tenor  of  life  might  have  con- 
tinued for  many  years  if  he  had  not  unfortunately  put  his  hand  to  the 
bills  in  question  ;  but  the  prospect  of  a  hopeless  privation  of  liberty, 
and  the  attendant  evils  and  horrors  of  a  jail,  operated  so  strongly 
upon  his  mind,  habituated  to  ancient  Roman  notions,  as  to  occasion 
the  dreadful  termination  of  his  life  by  suicide. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

John  Wolcot,  M.D.  I  became  acquainted  with  this  extraor- 
dinary character  in  the  year  1785,  and,  with  some  intervals,  arising 
from  suspicion  and  mistake  on  his  part,  I  believe  I  was  more  intimate 
with  him  than  any  other  of  his  numerous  connexions.  What  chiefly 
promoted  our  intimacy  was  my  sincere  admiration  of  his  talents,  and 
his  persuasion  that  I  understood  his  genius  and  general  character 
better  than  most  of  his  other  friends.  I  believe  I  may  venture  to 
say  that  such  was  the  fact.  I  confess,  I  think  he  possessed  an  original 
genius,  which  entitles  him  to  a  very  high  rank  in  the  literary  annals 
of  the  country. 

He  was  generally  understood  to  be  a  good  Latin  scholar,  and  had 
made  a  considerable  progress  in  the  Greek  language.  His  chief 
passion  was  for  poetry,  which  he  discovered  very  early  in  life,  and 


DR.  W0LC0T. 


363 


never  relinquished.  His  tendency  was  chiefly  to  satire,  but  £being  a 
great  admirer  of  the  ladies,  he  very  soon  indulged  himself  in  writing 
amatory  verses.  Yet,  though  many  of  them  were  marked  by  ten- 
derness and  elegance,  his  humour  interposed,  and  they  generally  con- 
cluded with  some  epigrammatic  point. 

He  was  a  great  observer  of  Nature  in  every  possible  mode,  and 
used  to  say,  that,  far  from  being  exhausted,  her  works  supplied  an  in- 
exhaustible source  of  new  imagery  to  an  attentive  observer.  He 
often  talked  of  the  difference  between  the  made  poet  and  the  poet  of 
Nature.  The  former,  he  said,  might  produce  very  good  poems,  but 
their  excellence  was  derivative,  and  they  had  nothing  original  in  their 
composition  ;  while  the  real  poet  studied  Nature  herself,  and  viewed 
life  rather  than  books.  This  opinion  may  appear  commonplace  ;  it 
is  however  certain  that  there  are  more  original  thoughts  to  be  found 
in  his  works  than  in  any  other  author  of  modern  times  ;  nor,  perhaps, 
in  that  respect,  would  it  be  extravagant  to  compare  him  with  some  of 
the  best  of  our  former  writers.  What  Melmoth,  in  his  "  Fitzosborn's 
Letters,"  says  of  "  The  Spleen,"  written  by  Matthew  Green,  may 
fairly  be  said  of  Wolcot's  "  Lousiad,"  viz.  that  there  are  more  original 
ideas  in  that  poem  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  other  work  of  the  same 
extent. 

I  have  been  often  laughed  at  for  my  high  opinion  of  Dr.  Wolcot's 
genius,  but  console  myself  with  the  notion,  that  they  who  ridicule  me 
had  either  not  read  his  works,  or  wanted  judgment  and  humour  suffi- 
cient to  understand  them.  That  he  frequently  fell  into  low  imagery 
I  readily  admit,  but  it  will  always  be  found  that  it  was  still  original, 
and  not  without  a  strong  point. 

There  is  a  well-written  account  of  the  doctor  in  the  "  Annual 
Biography  and  Obituary  for  the  year  18*20,"  but  the  author  is  mistaken 
in  some  instances,  particularly  as  to  the  success  of  his  first  publica- 
tion, his  "  Lyric  Odes  on  the  Painters,"  which,  far  from  being  profit- 
able, were  so  little  noticed,  except  by  the  artists,  that  the  publication 
cost  him  forty  pounds.  Soon  after  these  odes  were  published,  I  was 
introduced  to  him  accidentally  by  Mr.  Penneck.  I  had  read  the 
"  Lyric  Odes,"  and  when  in  the  course  of  conversation  I  found  that 
the  doctor  was  the  author  of  them,  I  was  anxious  to  cultivate  an  ac- 
quaintance with  so  humorous  and  so  original  a  writer.  I  then  con- 
ducted a  public  journal,  and  by  frequent  extracts  from  his  works,  and 
the  insertion  of  many  of  his  unpublished  poems,  I  brought  the  name 
of  Peter  Pindar  into  so  much  notice  that  Mr.  Kearsley,  then  a  popular 
bookseller,  introduced  himself  to  him,  and  was  a  ready  and  liberal 
purchaser  of  all  his  productions. 

The  doctor  has  often  declared  that  he  was  indebted  to  my  zeal  to 
bring  him  into  notice  for  half  of  his  fame  and  fortune.  I  must,  how- 
ever, do  myself  the  justice  to  declare  that  I  endeavoured  to  give  no- 
toriety to  his  name  before  he  wrote  such  reprehensible  attacks  upon 
our  late  venerable  sovereign ;  but  as  people  are  too  apt  to  feel  plea- 
sure in  attacks  on  their  superiors,  and  as  the  doctor  at  that  time  did 
not  abound  in  money,  my  exhortations  and  entreaties  had  no  effect  in 


364 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


opposition  to  his  interest.  He,  however,  hardly  ever  wrote  any  thing 
that  he  did  not  submit  to  me  in  manuscript ;  and  I  may  confidently 
say,  that  I  induced  him  to  make  many  alterations  and  suppressions, 
which  not  only  rendered  his  works  less  exceptionable,  but  most  pro- 
bably saved  him  from  legal  consequences. 

I  have  often  been  surprised,  as  he  was  really  a  timid  man,  how  he 
could  venture  to  take  such  freedoms,  not  only  with  the  royal  character, 
but  with  many  of  the  upper  ranks.  With  respect  to  our  late  excel- 
lent monarch  George  the  Third,  he  used  to  say,  that  he  reverenced 
the  British  constitution,  and  held  its  political  head  in  due  veneration  ; 
but  that  he  felt  justified  in  sporting  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  pri- 
vate character  of  the  monarch.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  opposed  these 
opinions,  and  referred  him  to  Blackstone,  to  show  the  punishment 
annexed  to  works  that  were  calculated  to  bring  the  character  of  the 
monarch  into  contempt.  In  short,  he  found  the  topic  too  profitable  to 
be  abandoned,  and  therefore  pursued  it  to  such  an  extent  as  to  render 
it  wonderful  that  it  should  not  have  attracted  the  attention  of  the  law- 
officers  of  government.  If  legal  notice  had  been  taken  of  his  muse, 
she  would  certainly  have  been  silenced,  at  least  upon  that  subject ; 
and  I  can  affirm  that  upon  one  occasion,  as  I  have  already  stated, 
when  he  was  in  fear  that  he  should  draw  upon  himself  the  vengeance 
of  government,  he  had  actually  prepared  to  set  off  for  America,  and 
determined  never  to  revisit  this  country.  The  apprehension,  how- 
ever, subsided,  and  impunity  made  him  bolder. 

His  lines  addressed  to  the  infamous  Thomas  Paine  during  the 
French .  revolution,  afford  a  proof  of  his  attachment  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  country ;  and,  to  use  his  own  expression,  due  care 
should  always  be  taken  by  wise  statesmen  to  prevent  "  the  unen- 
lightened million'  from  having  any  share  in  political  power. 

Here  it  may  be  proper  to  give  some  account  of  what  was  called 
Peter's  pension,  of  which  no  true  statement  has  ever  appeared,  though 
many  have  been  published.  We  were  one  day  dining  with  a  gentle- 
man, intimately  connected  with  a  member  of  the  government  at  that 
time,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation  the  doctor  expressed  himself 
with  so  much  vehemence  against  the  French  revolution,  which  was 
raging  at  that  time,  and  the  principles  on  which  it  was  founded,  that 
I  jocularly  said  to  our  host,  "  The  doctor  seems  to  show  symptoms  of 
bribabililij."  The  gentleman  encouraged  the  joke,  and  addressing  the 
doctor,  "  Come,  doctor,"  said  he,  "  with  these  opinions  you  can  have 
no  objection  to  support  the  government — shall  I  open  a  negotia- 
tion ?"  The  doctor  gave  a  doubtful,  but  not  a  discouraging  answer, 
and  then  the  subject  dropped,  but  the  next  morning  the  doctor  called 
on  the  gentleman,  and  knowing  that  he  was  in  the  confidence  of 
government,  asked  him  if  he  was  serious  in  what  he  had  said  the  day 
before.  The  gentleman,  not  being  without  alarm  at  the  progress  of 
French  principles,  and  their  ensnaring  nature  ;  aware  too  of  the 
power  of  ridicule,  and  how  formidable  a  weapon  it  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  doctor ;  told  him  seriously  that  if  he  was  really  inclined  to 
afford  the  support  of  his  pen  to  government,  he  thought  he  could  pro- 


BR.  WOLCOT. 


365 


cure  for  him  its  patronage.  The  doctor  said  he  had  several  works  in 
preparation  against  ministers  individually,  which  he  would  suppress 
if  that  would  do,  but  was  not  disposed  to  be  actively  employed  in 
favour  of  government.  The  gentleman,  with  some  compliment  to 
his  satirical  talents,  told  him  that  he  could  not  negotiate  on  such  terms, 
for,  if  he  published  libels,  the  law  might  be  put  in  force  against  him  ; 
remarking  at  the  same  time,  that  by  supporting  government  he  would 
be  acting  upon  his  own  declared  principles,  which  were  so  hostile  to 
those  by  which  the  French  monarchy  had  been  overthrown.  After 
farther  discussion,  the  doctor  permitted  him  to  open  the  negotiation. 
Though  government  had  not  given  the  least  intimation  on  the  sub- 
ject, yet  when  so  powerful  a  pen  was  offered,  it  was  too  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  doctor's  powers  to  negative  the  proposal.  At  length 
it  was  settled  that  the  doctor  should  have  three  hundred  a-year 
for  active  services.  Wolcot  stickled  hard  for  five  hundred  a-year, 
but,  finding  that  he  could  not  succeed,  he  consented  to  the  measure. 
He,  however,  wrote  nothing  but  a  few  epigrams  against  the  Jacobins, 
which  he  sent  to  the  editor  of  "  The  Sun"  newspaper.  This,  how- 
ever, not  being  deemed  an  adequate  service,  I  frequently  advised  him 
to  be  more  active  ;  but  a  sort  of  shame  hung  about  him  for  having 
engaged  in  support  of  a  government  which  he  had  so  often  abused,  or 
rather  its  members,  and  I  never  could  rouse  him  into  action. 

I  should  mention,  that  a  difficulty  had  arisen  as  to  the  medium 
through  which  he  was  to  receive  the  recompense.  The  gentleman 
who  had  opened  the  negotiation  positively  declined  the  office,  and,  as 
the  doctor  was  prohibited  from  going  himself  ?o  the  quarter  where  it 
was  to  be  received,  matters  seemed  to  be  at  a  stand  ;  however,  as  I 
was  really  an  "  alarmist,"  to  use  Mr.  Sheridan's  word,  and  thought 
highly  of  the  advantage  which  might  be  derived  from  the  doctor's 
talents,  I  offered  to  be  the  channel  of  remuneration.  Wolcot,  though 
he  really  did  nothing  more  than  what  I  have  above  mentioned,  was 
constantly  urging  me  u  to  bring  the  bag,"  as  he  styled  it.  Reluctant, 
however,  to  ask  for  money  which  he  had  done  nothing  to  deserve,  I 
delayed  my  application  so  long  that  he  grew  impatient,  and  asked  me 
if  he  might  go  himself  to  the  quarter  in  question.  I  answered  that  I 
thought  it  was  the  best  way,  for  I  had  reason  to  believe  he  considered 
he  was  really  to  have  five  hundred  a-year,  and  that  the  gentleman  who* 
had  negotiated  the  business  and  myself  were  to  divide  the  other  two. 
The  doctor  then  angrily  applied  to  the  fountain-head,  and  on  inquiring 
what  sum  he  was  to  have,  was  told  that  it  was  to  be  three  hundred 
a-year,  and  that  J  had  spoken  of  his  talents  in  the  highest  terms,  and 
of  the  advantages  which  might  be  expected  from  them.  He  then 
declared  that  he  should  deeline  the  business  altogther,  and  returned 
the  ten  pounds  which  he  had  taken  of  our  host,  as  he  said,  to  "  bind 
the  bargain."  Disgusted  with  his  suspicion,  I  reproached  him  on 
the  occasion,  and  we  separated  in  anger. 

As  I  knew  the  doctor  was  too  apt  to  give  a  favourable  colouring  to 
his  own  cause,  and  that  he  had  represented  the  whole  transaction  as 
a  trap  to  ensnare  him,  though  the  overture  had  actually  come  from 


366 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


himself,  I  addressed  a  letter  to  him,  and  faithfully  and  fully  detailed 
the  whole  affair,  telling  him  that  I  kept  a  copy  of  my  letter  to  read 
wherever  I  heard  that  he  had  misrepresented  the  matter.  Many 
years  of  separation  passed,  but  hearing  he  was  blind,  infirm,  lame, 
and  asthmatic,  I  resolved  one  Monday  morning  to  begin  the  week 
with  an  extinction  of  all  enmity  between  us,  and  went  to  his  lodgings 
in  Somers'  Town  on  that  day.  I  addressed  him  in  the  most  friendly 
tone,  but  he  did  not  recollect  my  voice,  and  when  he  understood  who 
I  was,  he  appeared  delighted,  pressed  me  to  have  a  glass  of  brandy- 
and-water,  though  it  was  morning,  and  said  that  if  1  would  stay,  I 
should  have  a  beef-steak  or  any  thing  else  I  could  desire.  In  short, 
we  were  reconciled  in  a  moment,  and  I  repeated  my  visits  as  often  as 
convenient  to  me,  promising  that  I  would  positively  drink  tea  with 
him  on  every  Saturday.  I  found  his  faculties  as  good  as  ever,  and 
his  poetical  talents  in  full  vigour. 

I  often  wrote  several  of  his  compositions  from  his  dictation,  which 
were  not  published,  but  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  worthless  executor. 
I  derived  so  much  pleasure  and  instruction  from  his  conversation,  that 
I  was  constant  in  my  attendance  upon  him  on  the  stipulated  day. 
Having,  however,  unavoidably  omitted  one  Saturday,  he  sent  one  of 
his  female  servants  to  desire  me  to  come,  and  to  tell  me  that  he  had 
something  for  me.  I  went,  when  he  desired  me  to  take  up  the  pen, 
and  dictated  the  following  lines,  which  he  said  he  should  have  sent  to 
me  if  he  had  been  able  to  write,  and  they  were  the  very  last  he  ever 
suggested. 

INVITATION. 

Taylor,  why  keep  so  long  away 
From  one  who  hates  a  gloomy  day  ? 

Then  let  not  laziness  o'ercome  ye, 
Hasten  with  stories,  wit,  and  rhyme, 
To  give  a  fillip  to  dull  time, 
And  drive  the  d — n'd  blue  devils  from  me. 

Ah  !  Taylor,  "  non  sum  qualis  eram" 
For  the  tomb  I  fear  I  near  am, 

But  who  can  hope  to  live  for  ever  ? 
One  foot  is  in  the  grave,  no  doubt, 
Then  come  and  try  to  help  it  out, 

An  ode  shall  praise  thy  kind  endeavour. 

The  ode,  however,  he  did  not  live  to  write,  which  I  sincerely  re- 
gret, as  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  it  would  have  manifested  at 
once,  his  favourable  opinion  of  me,  his  genius,  his  humour,  and  his 
friendship. 

A  few  days  before  his  death  he  sent  two  landscapes  to  me,  painted 
by  the  old  masters,  for  one  of  which  I  had  many  years  before  offered 
to  give  him  five  guineas,  which  he  refused,  saying  in  his  strong  man- 
ner, "  No— I  won't  sell  pleasure."  Both  of  these  pictures  were  so 
much  injured  by  negligence  and  bad  treatment,  that  they  were  not 
worth  accepting  otherwise  than  as  memorials  of  friendship.  From 


DR.  WOLCOT. 


367 


one  of  them,  that  which  I  had  offered  to  purchase,  my  excellent 
friend  Mr.  Westall,  R.A.  kindly  cut  off  the  injured  parts,  and  reduced 
it  into  a  pleasing  moonlight  scene,  which  I  now  possess. 

As  far  as  I  can  presume  to  judge,  Doctor  Wolcot  had  a  profound 
knowledge  of  painting,  and  a  refined  taste  for  that  art.  His  objec- 
tions were  generally  urged  with  original  humour  and  ludicrous  com- 
parisons, which  had  all  the  force  and  accuracy  of  the  most  elaborate 
criticism.  He  said  that  his  great  aim  was  to  make  Opie  a  Michael 
Angelo  Buonarotti,  but  that  he  must  first  have  made  him  a  gentle- 
man, which  he  found  impossible.  This  remark,  however,  was  made 
during  his  variance  with  that  original  artist,  of  whose  talents  he  thought 
highly  and  deservedly. 

The  raillery  which  frequently  took  place  between  him  and  Opie 
was  highly  diverting.  Wolcot's  sallies  were  marked  with  vigour, 
with  a  classical  point,  and  Opie's  with  all  the  energy  of  a  mind 
naturally  very  powerful ;  their  controversies  always  ended  with 
laughter  on  both  sides,  and  without  the  least  ill  will.  The  contest 
was  what  Johnson  applies  to  the  characters  in  Congreve's  plays,  an 
"  intellectual  gladiatorship,"  in  which  neither  might  be  deemed  the 
victor.  The  doctor  and  I  used  frequently  to  fall  into  contests  of  the 
same  kind,  but  I  found  him  generally  too  strong,  and  my  only  expedi- 
ent was  to  make  him  laugh,  by  retorting  some  of  his  old  sallies  against 
me,  which  the  company  thought  were  my  own,  and  he  used  to  smile 
at  my  impudence  in  repeating  them  against  him.  Sometimes  those 
in  company  who  did  not  know  us,  were  apprehensive  that  we  should 
part  in  enmity,  but  we  always  went  home  arm-in-arm,  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

My  weekly  visits  continued  many  years,  with  unabated  pleasure  on 
my  part,  and  I  may  presume  much  to  the  gratification  of  the  doctor. 

As  a  proof  that  he  was  a  kind  and  considerate  master,  when  one 
of  his  servants  came  to  tell  me  that  he  had  been  taken  ill,  and  was  de- 
lirious when  she  left  him,  she  wept  all  the  time  that  she  described  his 
situation.  I  went  as  soon  as  I  could  in  the  afternoon,  and  then 
learned  that  he  had  recovered  his  faculties,  but  was  asleep.  I  sat  by 
his  bedside,  expecting  he  would  awake,  amusing  myself  with  a  volume 
of  his  works  until  ten  o'clock.  He  then  awoke,  and  I  told  him  how 
long  I  had  been  there,  observing  that  it  was  a  dreary  way  home,  and 
perhaps  not  quite  safe,  concluding  with  saying,  "  Is  there  any  thing  on 
earth  that  1  can  do  for  you  ?"  His  answer,  delivered  in  a  deep  and 
strong  tone,  was,  "  Bring  back  my  youth."  He  fell  into  a  sleep  again, 
and  I  left  him.  On  calling  on  him  the  next  day,  I  found  he  had  died, 
as  might  be  said,  in  his  sleep,  and  that  those  words  were  the  last  he 
ever  uttered. 

Such  was  the  end  of  a  man  who  possessed  extraordinary  powers, 
great  acquisitions,  and  an  original  genius.  I  cannot  but  consider  him 
indeed  as  a  man  among  those  of  the  most  distinguished  talents  that 
this  country  has  produced,  and  whose  works  ought,  and  must  be  con- 


36S 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


sidered  as  compositions  marked  by  extraordinary  powers,  inexhausti- 
ble humour,  satire,  and  imagination.* 

There  are  reasonable  doubts  about  the  authenticity  of  his  will. 
The  person  who  possessed  it  was  a  very  vulgar  man,  but  very  cun- 
ning, and  well  acquainted  with  the  world.  The  doctor  was  disgusted 
with  him,  and  only  endured  him  because  he  hated  solitude  after  he 
was  blind.  Wolcot,  who  thought  him  an  honest  man,  told  me  that 
he  had  his  will.  I  told  him  what  the  doctor  had  said,  and  he  denied 
that  he  was  entrusted  with  a  will.  After  Wolcot's  death,  however, 
he  said  that  he  had  found  the  will  among  some  copper-plates,  from 
drawings  by  the  doctor,  from  which  prints  had  been  published.  A 
very  respectable  person,  who  is  a  clerk  in  one  of  the  offices  in  Somer- 
set House,  who  was  entrusted  by  Wolcot,  and  who  used  to  receive 
dividends  for  him  at  the  bank,  assured  me  that  it  was  impossible  a 
will  could  be  found  in  the  alleged  situation,  as  he  had  looked  over 
the  copper-plates  a  short  time  before  ;  that  no  paper  was  among 
them  ;  and  that  it  was  likewise  impossible  for  the  doctor,  blind  as  he 
was,  to  have  placed  any  paper  there  at  a  subsequent  period,  or  to 
have  found  his  way  to  the  place  where  the  copper-plates  were  de- 
posited. 

What  strengthens  the  suspicion  that  the  will  was  not  genuine,  is, 
that  it  was  witnessed  by  two  persons,  whose  names  were  wholly 
unknown  to  the  servants,  and  whom  they  never  remembered  as 
visiters  to  their  master.  The  servants  were  sisters,  and  the  elder  was 
a  shrewd,  intelligent,  and  attentive  young  woman.  Their  master  had 
often  mentioned  the  sums  that  he  should  respectively  leave  to  themf 
and  which  the  executor  ultimately  paid.  He  also  paid  the  clerk 
whom  I  have  mentioned  fifty  pounds,  and  me  the  same  sum,  which 
the  doctor  had  desired  him  to  specify  in  writing,  and  which  he  signed 
as  well  as  he  could  in  his  helpless  situation.  Wolcot's  then  surviving 
sister,  knowing  my  intimacy  with  him,  wrote  to  me  inquiring  the 
particulars  respecting  his  death,  and  expressing  her  surprise  that  he 
had  not  left  her  any  thing,  as  he  had  signified  to  her  in  a  letter  which 
he  had  dictated  and  sent  to  her,  that  he  hoped  he  should  be  able  to 
leave  her  a  few  hundreds.  I  made  a  profile  drawing  of  him,  which 
his  friend  the  elder  Mr.  Heath  engraved,  and  which,  with  a  biography 

*  Doctor  Wolcot  may  be  said  to  have  been  profoundly  conversant  with  the  nature 
of  man.  He  had  mixed  with  various  classes  of  mankind,  and  his  knowledge  of 
them  rendered  him  very  discerning,  and  of  consequence  very  suspicious.  The  fol- 
lowing anecdote  appears  to  me  to  be  a  striking  proof  of  his  penetration,  though  to 
others,  when  the  solution  is  known,  it  may  be  deemed  a  natural  inference.  He  dined 
one  day  with  a  niece  of  Dr.  Warburton,  who,  in  speaking  highly  in  praise  of  her 
uncle,  expressed  her  surprise  that  ever  he  should  be  thought  a  proud  man,  "  for,  said 
she,  "  I  have  been  with  him  when  there  were  lords,  bishops,  and  rich  men  in  com- 
pany, and  betook  more  notice  of  me,  and  talked  more  with  me,  than  with  any  of  the 
rest."  The  poor  woman,  as  Dr.  Wolcot  justly  observed,  could  hardly  have  given  a 
better  specimen  of  the  pride  of  her  uncle,  who,  to  show  his  contempt  for  great  peo- 
ple, devoted  his  attention  to  a  silly  old  gossip.  People  in  general  might  consider  the 
old  woman's  story  as  literally  a  proof  of  the  humility  of  Warburton,  and  I  probably 
among  them,  but  the  discernment  of  Wolcot  led  him  to  the  proper  interpretation  of 
his  conduct.    This  development  may  remind  us  of  Columbus  and  the  egg. 


DR.  WOLCOT. 


369 


that  I  wrote  of  him,  was  inserted  in  the  Lady's  Magazine,  of  which 
Mr.  Heath  was  then  the  proprietor.  I  sent  the  Magazine  to  the 
doctor's  sister,  who  wrote  a  letter  to  me,  thanking  me  for  my  atten- 
tion, and  requesting  my  acceptance  of  the  second  folio  of  Shakspeare's 
works,  published  by  Hemings  and  Condell,  which  I  received  from 
the  executor  on  producing  her  letter.  The  doctor  left  many  boxes 
full  of  unpublished  manuscripts  of  his  own  writing,  for  which  the 
bookseller,  it  is  said,  offered  a  thousand  pounds,  but  for  w7hich  the 
executor  demanded  double  the  sum ;  and  as  he  also  is  dead,  they 
will  probably  be  disposed  of  as  waste-paper,  though  perhaps,  if 
properly  selected,  they  might  prove  a  valuable  addition  to  the  poetical 
treasures  of  the  country.  The  doctor's  love  of  life  was  intense.  He 
has  often  said  that  he  would  take  a  lease  of  five  hundred  years  from 
nature.  "  What !"  said  I,  "  with  all  your  infirmities?"  "  Yes,"  said 
he ;  "  for  while  here  you  are  something,  but  when  dead  you  are 
nothing ;"  yet  he  firmly  believed  in  the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Being. 
I  remember  once  mentioning  the  doctor's  love  of  life  to  Mr.  Sheridan, 
expressing  my  surprise.  Mr.  Sheridan  said,  that  he  would  not  only 
take  a  lease  for  five  hundred  years,  but  for  ever,  provided  he  was  in 
health,  in  good  circumstances,  and  with  such  friends  as  he  then 
possessed ;  yet  if  he  had  taken  due  care  of  his  health,  and  prudently 
managed  his  fortune,  he  might  still  be  alive  and  an  ornament  to  the 
country. 

Dr.  Wolcot  had  been  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  had  mixed 
with  all  the  different  classes  of  mankind,  the  result  of  which  intercourse 
was,  a  very  unfavourable  opinion  of  human  nature.  He  had  a  dire 
hatred  of  all  foreign  courts,  and  of  politicians  in  all  countries.  He 
thought  that  foreign  potentates  in  all  states  were  capable  of  the 
utmost  tyranny  and  oppression,  and  that  they  would  employ  the 
worst  means  to  effect  their  purposes.  Though  he  held  the  nobility 
in  great  contempt,  as  proud,  insolent,  ignorant,  and  unfeeling,  yet  he 
confessed  that  he  always  felt  awe  in  their  presence. 

I  have  been  a  frequent  witness  of  the  awe  which  he  felt  before 
great  persons.  Once  I  remember  being  in  a  private  room  of  the  old 
opera-house,  where  his  majesty  George  the  Fourth,  then  Prince  of 
Wales,  condescended  to  permit  Dr.  Wolcot  to  be  introduced  to  him. 
The  prince  received  him  in  the  most  gracious  manner,  and  in  a  short 
conversation  observed,  with  dignified  affability,  that  he  admired  his 
genius,  but  sometimes  thought  it  ill-directed.  The  doctor  seemed  to 
sink  with  humility  and  self-reproach,  and  made  a  mumbling,  inaudible 
apology.  The  prince  maintained  the  same  dignified  ease  and  affa- 
bility, and  Wolcot  recovered  his  spirits  enough  to  express  his  hopes 
that  his  royal  highness  would  have  less  reason  hereafter  to  find  fault 
with  his  humble  muse.  Nothing  could  be  more  graceful  than  the 
manner  in  which  his  royal  highness  took  leave  of  the  doctor,  who,  from 
that  time,  never  resumed  an  attack  upon  the  royal  family,  but  trans- 
ferred all  his  satirical  hostility  to  the  ministers.  It  was  understood 
that  the  prince  was  aware  of  this  meeting,  and  it  was  inferred  that  he 
thought  a  courteous  rebuke  would  have  a  better  effect  upon  the 


370 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIPE. 


doctor  in  checking  the  license  of  his  pen,  than  all  the  severity  of  the 
law  if  it  should  be  called  into  action  against  him ;  and  the  expedient 

succeeded. 

Another  time  I  was  going  up  the  stairs  at  the  same  opera-house 
with  the  doctor,  when  we  met  the  late  Duke  of  Cumberland,  who 
with  perfect  good-humour,  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Pindaricus  ?" 
Wolcot  felt  abashed,  but  not  to  the  same  degree  as  when  before  the 
prince. 

I  learned  from  the  late  Duke  of  Leeds,  with  whom  I  had  the 
honour  to  be  acquainted,  that  meeting  Dr.  Wolcot  in  the  green-room 
of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  who  had  attacked  him  in  one  of  his  poems, 
the  duke  addressed  him  with  great  courtesy,  and  desired  him  to  ac- 
company him  to  his  box,  and  he  would  introduce  him  to  the  duchess. 
Wolcot  could  not  resist  the  overture,  but  went  with  timid  hesitation, 
and  was  introduced  to  the  duchess.  The  duke  told  me,  that  in  the 
course  of  conversation  he  adverted  to  the  doctor's  attack  upon  him, 
and  said,  "  But,  doctor,  if  you  disapproved  of  my  politics,  why  did 
you  ridicule  my  nose — I  could  not  help  that  ?"  Wolcot  attempted  to 
excuse  himself,  saying  he  had  heard  that  his  grace  had,  with  other 
ministers,  advised  a  prosecution  against  him  for  the  freedom  of  his 
pen.  The  duke  assured  him  he  was  misinformed,  and  that  he  re- 
vered the  freedom  of  the  press.  The  doctor  was  received  by  the 
duke  and  duchess  with  great  courtesy,  and  they  parted  in  the  most 
amicable  manner. 

I  was  first  introduced  to  his  grace,  when  Marquis  of  Carmarthen, 
by  Dr.  Monsey,  at  his  apartments  in  Chelsea  Hospital,  and  he  always 
saluted  me  with  great  kindness  from  that  period  till  his  death.  The 
duke  told  me  that  as  he  was  once  going  down  the  stairs  at  St.  James's 
Palace,  he  saw  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Bath  descending  at  the  same 
time,  and  apparently  with  great  pain.  The  duke,  then  Lord  Osborn, 
offered  his  assistance,  which  the  earl  accepted  ;  and  as  they  went 
down  the  stairs,  the  latter  said,  "  Thank  you,  young  gentleman,  I  have 
more  difficulty  in  getting  down  these  stairs  now,  than  ever  I  had  in 
getting  up  them,"  alluding,  of  course,  to  his  former  political  import- 
ance. 

The  Duke  of  Leeds  possessed  poetical  talents,  as  was  evident  in  a 
prologue  which  he  once  wrote,  and  in  his  Ex  pede  Herculem,  which 
obviously  showed  that  if  he  had  continued  to  court  the  muse  he 
would  not  have  wooed  in  vain.  He  was  one  of  the  best-bred  gentle- 
men I  ever  knew.  I  remember  when  speaking  of  his  grace  with  the 
late  Mr.  Kemble,  the  latter  said  the  duke  always  reminded  him  of  the 
higher  characters  in  Congreve,  observing  that  he  had  their  ease, 
courtesy,  elegance,  and  sprightliness  in  his  conversation,  without  any 
of  their  licentiousness  and  occasional  grossness. 

I  have  often  met  his  grace  in  the  green-room  of  Covent  Garden 
theatre,  and  sometimes  he  appeared  a  little  under  the  influence  of 
Bacchus,  in  consequence,  it  was  said,  of  the  want  of  domestic  felicity  ; 
but  he  never  deviated  in  the  slightest  degree  from  his  habitual  polite- 
ness, affability,  and  good-humour.    Never  was  there  a  greater  con- 


DR.  WOLCOT — MR.  WILLIAM  WOODFALL. 


371 


trast  than  between  the  deportment  of  his  grace  and  that  of  the  late 
Marquis  of  Abercorn,  whom  I  sometimes  saw  in  the  same  place. 
The  marquis  assumed  a  haughty  dignity  of  demeanour,  and  looked 
around  as  if  he  thought  he  disgraced  himself  by  condescending  to 
cast  a  glance  upon  any  person  in  the  room.  The  performers,  who  are 
never  wanting  in  humour,  ridicule,  and  mimicry,  on  his  departure  amply 
revenged  themselves  for  his  indignant  neglect  by  amusing  caricatures 
of  his  manner.  Not  so  with  the  Duke  of  Leeds,  who  was  always 
treated  by  them  with  the  most  respectful  attention,  and  seemed  to 
raise  them  in  their  opinion  of  themselves  by  his  courteous  kindness 
and  unaffected  affability. 

I  once  presented  to  his  grace  my  first  metrical  production,  for  I 
fear  to  call  it  poetry,  but  did  not  annex  my  residence  to  the  few 
original  stanzas  in  manuscript  by  which  it  was  accompanied  ;  and  the 
next  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him,  he  gently  rebuked  me, 
and  said  that  if  he  had  known  where  I  lived,  he  would  not  have  con- 
tented himself  with  writing  to  me,  but  would  have  waited  upon  me 
to  thank  me  in  person.  1  lamented  my  omission,  as  I  should  have 
witnessed  a  perfect  example  of  good-breeding,  and  should  have  pro- 
fited by  the  intelligence  and  abundance  of  anecdotes  that  character- 
ized his  conversation.  His  grace  frequently  invited  Mr.  Kemble,  and 
other  higher  actors,  to  meet  several  distinguished  literary  characters 
at  his  hospitable  mansion. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

Mr.  William  Woodfall.  This  gentleman,  who  was  one  of  my 
early  friends,  was  not  more  distinguished  by  his  extraordinary  mem- 
ory than  by  the  rectitude  and  benevolence  of  his  private  character. 
His  memory  was,  indeed,  wonderfully  accurate  and  retentive.  The 
public  journal  which  he  instituted,  and  for  many  years  conducted,  was 
rendered  so  popular  by  his  faithful  report  of  parliamentary  debates, 
that  the  proprietors  of  other  public  journals  were  obliged  to  resort  to 
similar  means,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  comparative  credit  of  their  re- 
spective papers;  but  they  were  obliged  also  to  employ  many  reporters, 
in  order  to  sustain  any  rivalry  with  Mr.  Woodfall  in  that  department 
of  a  newspaper.  His  practice  in  the  House  of  Commons  during  a 
debate  was  to  close  his  eyes,  and  to  lean  with  both  hands  on  his  stick. 
He  was  so  well  acquainted  with  the  tone  and  manner  of  the  several 
speakers,  that  he  only  deviated  from  his  customary  posture  when  a 
new  member  addressed  the  house,  and  having  heard  his  name,  he  had 
no  subsequent  occasion  for  farther  inquiry. 

Upon  one  occasion,  some  observations  were  made  upon  one  of  Mr. 
Woodfall's  reports  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  when  Lord  Kenyon 
was  chief-justice.  In  consequence  of  what  the  counsel  had  said  on  the 


372 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


report  in  question,  in  which  a  fact  of  some  importance  was  involved, 
Lord  Kenyon  desired  to  see  the  newspaper,  which  was  handed  to 
him.  After  perusing  the  passage  referred  to,  his  lordship  inquired  if 
the  journalist  was  the  gentleman  who  was  so  distinguished  for  accu- 
racy in  reporting  debates,  and  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he 
said,  that  he  had  been  so  frequent  a  witness  of  that  gentleman's  sur- 
prising correctness  in  reporting  debates  in  the  House  of  Lords,  that  he 
was  disposed  to  give  implicit  credit  to  his  precision  in  the  present  in- 
stance, and  therefore  no  more  was  said  on  the  subject. 

But  what  increased  the  wonder  as  to  the  powers  of  his  memory, 
was  his  ability  to  retain  a  full  recollection  of  any  particular  debate  a 
fortnight  after  it  had  occurred,  and  during  the  intervention  of  many 
other  debates.  On  such  occasions  he  used  to  say,  that  he  had  placed 
it  in  a  corner  of  his  mind  for  future  reference.  When  employed  in 
writing  his  reports,  he  was  not  so  absorbed  in  the  subject  as  to  be  in- 
capable of  playful  aberrations,  of  which  I  may  properly  mention  an 
instance,  related  to  me  by  Mr.  John  Windus,  of  the  Court  of  Ex- 
chequer. 

Mr.  Woodfall,  on  account  of  his  judgment  and  candour  as  a  drama- 
tic and  theatrical  critic,  and  for  his  zeal  in  supporting  the  interests  of 
the  drama,  was  permitted  by  the  theatrical  proprietors  to  write  orders 
for  the  admission  of  his  friends.  Mr.  Windus,  then  a  boy,  during  his 
school  vacation,  called  on  him  for  the  purpose  of  asking  for  an  order. 
Mrs.  Woodfall  told  him,  that  as  her  husband  was  then  occupied  on  a 
very  important  debate,  he  could  not  see  him.  Mr.  Woodfall,  how- 
ever, hearing  his  voice,  called  him  into  his  private  room  and  inquired 
what  he  wanted.  Being  told,  he  said,  "  Oh,  you  want  an  order," 
and  proceeded  on  his  debate.  Having  reached  some  period  that  ad- 
mitted of  a  pause,  he  again  asked  young  Windus  what  he  wanted,  and 
the  request  being  repeated,  he  uttered  the  same  words  and  resumed 
writing  the  debate.  After  many  repetitions  of  the  same  question  and 
answer,  Mr.  Woodfall  took  a  piece  of  paper  and  wrote  something  to 
the  following  effect,  addressed  to  the  boy's  schoolmaster :  "  Sir,  the 
bearer  is  a  very  bad  boy,  and  I  desire  you  will  give  him  a  severe 
whipping,  and  place  it  to  the  account  of  yours,  Toby  Ticklerump." 
After  young  Windus  had  recovered  from  his  surprise,  Mr.  Woodfall, 
with  his  usual  kindness,  gave  the  proper  order,  and  returned  to  his 
occupation. 

This  circumstance,  however  unimportant  in  itself,  is  mentioned  to 
show  that,  in  the  midst  of  a  labour  that  might  be  expected  to  engross 
all  his  mental  powers,  he  was  able  to  indulge  a  facetious  humour.  Mr. 
Windus  kept  the  whimsical  order  till  his  riper  years,  as  a  singular 
proof  of  the  intellectual  power  and  playful  humour  of  his  early  friend. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Wood&ll,  and  can  bear  a  cordial 
testimony  to  his  moral  worth,  and  the  candour  and  justice  of  his  thea- 
trical criticisms.  He  always  seemed  to  touch  the  true  points  of  merit 
and  defects  in  a  drama,  or  in  the  performance  ;  but  while  he  proved 
his  judgment,  he  was  always  warm  in  his  panegyrics  and  lenient  in 
his  censure.    When  attending  any  new  drama,  or  new  performer,  his 


MR.  WILLIAM  WOODPALL. 


373 


attention  seemed  by  the  expression  of  his  features  to  approach  to 
severity,  though  there  was  nothing  like  it  in  his  heart. 

I  remember  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  when  we  were  once  sitting 
together  at  the  theatre,  bade  me  observe  Mr.  Woodfall  in  one  of  those 
serious  moods,  and  said,  "  How  applicable  to  him  is  the  passage  in 
Hamlet, "  thoughts  black,  hands  apt."  After  conducting  "  the  Morning 
Chronicle"  with  a  due  attention  to  the  course  of  public  events  and 
characters,  and  without  any  of  that  daring  scandal,  scurrility,  and  fri- 
volous levity  too  characteristic  of  the  public  prints,  as  the  proprietors 
of  that  paper  were  not  capable  of  properly  estimating  the  value  of  his 
talents,  and  wanted  to  impose  restraints  upon  his  power  as  editor,  he 
relinquished  his  connexion  with  it,  and  instituted  a  new  daily  paper 
under  the  title  of "  The  Diary,"  which  he  supported  by  his  name  and 
abilities  for  many  years ;  but  as  parliamentary  debates  became  the 
chief  objects  of  public  attention,  as  the  rival  journals  were  directed  to 
the  same  objects,  and  as  he  had  to  contend  against  a  host  of  reporters, 
who  were  able  to  render  the  debates  as  long,  and,  perhaps,  longer 
than  it  was  possible  for  his  individual  efforts  to  extend  them,  the  suc- 
cess cf  his  new  paper  did  not  fulfil  his  expectations,  which  induced 
him  to  put  an  end  to  it. 

To  show  the  grateful  feelings  that  animated  his  heart  on  the  very 
day  in  which  he  terminated  the  existence  of  "  The  Diary,"  he  sent  a 
letter  to  me,  expressing  his  thanks  for  the  voluntary  and  gratuitous 
articles  with  which  I  had  supplied  him  for  many  years,  and  which  on 
my  part  were  gratifying  contributions  of  friendship  to  a  worthy  man, 
who  was  always  prompt  and  zealous  in  the  exertion  of  his  talents 
wherever  they  could  be  useful. 

Mrs.  Woodfall  was  an  excellent  wife  and  mother.  There  were 
five  sons,  and  one  daughter,  all  of  whom  were  educated  with  paren- 
tal care,  and  all  of  whom  rewarded  that  care  by  their  good  conduct 
and  their  talents.  The  eldest  son,  who  was  sent  to  the  university,  and 
who  displayed  great  abilities,  was  able  to  render  valuable  service  to 
his  father's  journal,  and  promised  to  become  eminent  at  the  bar  or 
in  the  pulpit ;  but  was  unfortunately,  in  the  midst  of  the  hopes  which 
his  intellectual  powers  and  attainments  had  excited,  seized  with  a 
mental  malady  which  totally  unfitted  him  for  business,  and  at  length 
finally  obliged  the  family  to  place  him  in  a  situation  appropriated  to 
such  melancholy  cases. 

Mr.  Woodfail  was  a  very  hospitable  character.  He  possessed  a 
very  handsome  residence  at  Kentish  Town,  which  was  often  the  scene 
of  friendship  and  conviviality.  I  remember  passing  a  very  pleasant 
day  at  this  mansion.  Among  the  numerous  guests  on  that  occasion 
were  the  late  Mr.  Tickel,  whose  literary  and  colloquial  powers  were 
well  known ;  the  late  Mr.  Richardson,  whose  literary  talents  were 
justly  admired  for  his  part  in  that  memorable  publication  "  The  Rolliad 
and  the  Probationary  Odes,"  which  once  excited  public  attention  in 
no  slight  degree  ;  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble  ;  the  late  Mr.  Perry  of 
u  The  Morning  Chronicle  ;"  Dr.  Glover,  whose  facetious  and  convivial 
powers  were  in  high  repute ;  and  Francis  Const,  Esq.    The  day  was 


374 


RECOUPS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


a  little  interrupted  by  a  short  dispute  between  Mr.  Kemble  and  Mr. 
Perry,  the  latter  having  given  an  offensive  answer  to  something  said 
by  Mr.  Kemble.  Mr.  Kemble  looked  at  him  with  contempt,  and 
Avishing  to  put  an  end  to  the  contest,  said  emphatically,  with  Zanga, 
"A  lion  preys  not  upon  carcasses."  This  rejoinder  roused  Mr. 
Perry,  and  serious  hostilities  might  have  ensued,  if  Mr.  Const  and  Mr. 
Richardson  had  not  instantly  interposed,  and  by  their  friendly  and 
impressive  mediation  restored  peace  and  good-humour. 

The  late  Mr.  Francis  Twiss,  father  of  the  present  Mr.  Horace  Twiss, 
by  the  sister  of  Mr.  Kemble,  was  also  one  of  the  party,  and  as  soon  as 
Mr.  Perry  arose  wnth  an  evident  hostile  spirit,  he  arose  also  to  support 
his  friend  Kemble,  and  to  effect  a  reconciliation,  but  his  feelings  over- 
powered him,  and  the  work  of  amity  was  effectually  accomplished  by 
Messrs.  Const  and  Richardson.  Care,  however,  was  judiciously  taken 
by  Mr.  Woodfall  to  prevent  the  disputants  from  returning  to  town  in 
the  same  vehicle,  lest  the  contest  should  be  renewed.  I  returned  in 
the  same  coach  with  Mr,  Const,  Mr.  Kemble,  and  Mr.  Twiss,  and 
there  w^as  no  allusion  to  the  unpleasant  controversy  in  our  journey. 

Mr.  Woodfall  had  a  high  idea  of  the  importance  of  a  parliamentary 
reporter,  and  when  I  one  day  congratulated  him  on  having  his  elder 
son  in  town  to  assist  him,  during  a  very  heavy  week — "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"  and  Charles  Fox  to  have  a  debate  on  a  Saturday  ! — what !  does  he 
think  that  reporters  are  made  of  iron  ?"  There  is  a  ludicrous  simpli- 
city in  his  thus  supposing  that  a  great  politician,  with  an  object  of 
consequence  to  his  party  in  view,  should  have  thought  of  parliament- 
ary reporters. 

Mr.  Woodfall  told  me  that  after  Dr.  Dodd  had  been  tried  and  con- 
victed, but  not  ordered  for  execution,  he  sent  to  request  Mr.  Wood- 
fall  would  visit  him  in  Newgate.  Mr.  Woodfall,  who  was  always 
ready  at  the  call  of  distress,  naturally  supposed  the  doctor  wished  to 
consult  him  on  his  situation,  or  to  desire  that  he  would  insert  some 
article  in  his  favour  in  "  The  Morning  Chronicle."  On  entering  the 
place  of  confinement,  Mr.  Woodfall  began  to  condole  with  him  on  his 
unfortunate  situation.  The  doctor  immediately  interrupted  him,  and 
said  that  he  wished  to  see  him  on  quite  a  different  subject.  He  then 
told  Mr.  Woodfall,  that,  knowing  his  judgment  on  dramatic  matters, 
he  was  anxious  to  have  his  opinion  of  a  comedy  which  he  had  writ- 
ten, and  if  he  approved  of  it,  to  request  his  interest  with  the  managers 
to  bring  it  on  the  stage.  Mr.  Woodfall  was  not  only  surprised,  but 
shocked,  to  find  the  doctor  so  insensible  to  his  situation,  and  the  more 
so,  because  whenever  he  attempted  to  offer  consolation,  the  doctor  as 
often  said,  "  Oh  !  they  will  not  hang  me !"  while,  to  aggravate  Mr. 
WroodfaH's  feelings,  he  had  been  informed  by  Mr.  Ackerman,  the 
keeper  of  Newgate,  before  his  interview  with  the  doctor,  that  the 
order  for  his  execution  had  actually  reached  the  prison.  For  this  ex- 
traordinary fact,  the  reader  may  confidently  rely  on  the  veracity  of 
Mr.  Woodfall.* 

*  I  once  heard  the  unfortunate  doctor  preach  at  the  Magdalen  Hospital.  Presum- 
ing upon  his  importance,  he  did  not  arrive  till  the  service  was  oyer,  and  a  clergyman 


MR.  GEORGE  AND  H.  S.  WOODFAL*. 


375 


Mr.  George  Woodfall.  The  iiame  of  Woodfall  will  always 
rank  high  in  my  esteem  and  gratitude,  particularly  that  branch  of  the 
family  which  I  now  introduce.  He  was  the  son  of  my  old  friend 
Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall,  formerly  chief  proprietor  of  "  The 
Public  Advertiser,"  at  that  time  the  principal  public  journal ;  and,  as 
a  proof  of  its  decided  superiority,  the  vehicle  which  Junius  had  pre- 
ferred to  communicate  his  productions  to  the  world  at  large.  It 
could  not  have  been  merely  the  high  estimation  in  which  "  The  Public 
Advertiser'  was  held  at  the  period  in  question,  which  induced  him  to 
make  this  honourable  selection,  but  because  he  must  have  known 
something  of  the  firmness,  public  spirit,  and  inflexible  integrity  of 
Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall.  However  that  may  be,  it  is  certain 
that  though  Junius  might  have  known  him,  he  did  not  know  Junius, 
and  hence  the  preference  which  Junius  gave  him  is  the  more  honour- 
able to  my  old  friend.  But  to  the  credit  of  Mr.  H.  S.  Woodfall, 
though  it  was  generally  supposed  that  Junius  had  intrusted  him  with 
his  name  as  well  as  with  his  productions,  Mr.  Woodfall  never  affected 
to  know  the  author,  directly  or  indirectly ;  and  I  remember  when  I 
once  met  him  at  dinner  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Harris,  the  late  chief 
proprietor  of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  and  Junius  became  the  subject 
of  conversation,  I  observed  that  Junius  must  be  dead,  for  that  so 
many  topics  of  constitutional  importance  had  occurred  since  he  last 
wrote,  that  he  would  have  been  induced  to  come  forward  again  if  he 

had  entered  the  pulpit  and  commenced  the  sermon.  The  clergyman,  however,  re- 
signed his  situation  as  soon  as  the  doctor  appeared.  His  discourse  was  delivered 
with  energy,  but  with  something  theatrical  in  his  action  and  poetical  in  his  language. 
Among  other  passages  of  a  lofty  description,  I  remember  he  said,  that  "  the  man 
whose  life  is  conducted  according  to  the  principles  of  the  Christian  religion,  will  hav& 
the  satisfaction  of  an  approving  conscience  and  the  glory  of  an  admiring  God." 
Dodd  published  a  volume  of  poems,  some  of  which  are  in  Dodsley's  collection.  His 
sermons  have  a  tincture  of  poetry  in  the  language.  I  heard  him  a  second  time  in 
Charlotte  Chapel,  Pimlico,  and  his  discourse  made  the  same  impression. 

It  was  lamentable  to  remark  the  difference  between  his  former  deportment  in  the 
streets  and  his  appearance  in  the  coach  the  last  time  I  saw  him,  when  he  was  going 
to  suffer  the  sentence  of  the  law.  In  the  streets  he  walked  with  his  head  erect  and 
with  a  lofty  gait,  like  a  man  conscious  of  his  own  importance,  and  perhaps  of  the  dig- 
nity of  his  sacred  calling.  In  the  coach  he  had  sunk  down  with  his  head  to  the  side, 
his  face  pale,  while  his  features  seemed  to  be  expanded :  his  eyes  were  closed,  and 
he  appeared  a  wretched  spectacle  of  despair.  The  crowd  of  people  in  Holborn, 
where  I  saw  him  pass,  was  immense,  and  a  deep  sense  of  pity  seemed  to  be  the  uni- 
versal feeling.  I  was  young  and  adventurous,  or  I  should  not  have  trusted  myself 
in  so  vast  a  multitude  ;  sympathy  had  repressed  every  tendency  towards  disorder, 
even  in  so  varied  and  numerous  a  mass  of  people. 

Dr.  Dodd,  on  the  day  when  he  was  taken  into  custody,  had  engaged  to  dine  with 
the  late  Chevalier  Ruspini,  in  Pall  Mall.  He  had  arrived  some  time  before  the  hour 
appointed,  and  soon  after  two  persons  called  and  inquired  for  him,  and  when  he  went 
to  them,  he  was  informed  that  they  had  come  to  secure  him  on  a  criminal  charge. 
The  doctor  apologized  to  the  chevalier  for  the  necessity  of  leaving  him  so  abruptly;, 
and  desired  that  he  would  not  wait  dinner  for  him.  Soon  after  dinner  a  friend  of 
the  chevalier  called,  and  said  he  had  just  left  the  city,  and  informed  the  company 
that  Dr.  Dodd  had  been  committed  to  prison  on  a  charge  of  forgery.  I  was  present 
at  the  sale  of  his  effects  at  his  house  in  Argyle -street.  During  the  sale  a  large  table 
in  the  drawing-room  was  covered  with  private  letters  to  the  doctor,  all  open,  and 
some  signed  by  many  noblemen  and  distinguished  characters.  I  presume  these  let- 
ters were  to  be  sold  in  one  lot,  but  I  did  not  stay  till  the  conclusion  of  the  sale,. 


376 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


were  alive.  Mr.  Woodfall  then  said,  "  I  hope  and  trust  he  is  not 
dead,  as  I  think  he  would  have  left  me  a  legacy;  for  though  I  de- 
rived much  honour  from  his  preference,  I  suffered  much  by  the  free- 
dom of  his  pen."  These  were  his  very  words,  and  the  blunt  integrity 
of  his  manner  fully  confirmed  his  previous  declaration,  in  the  same 
company,  that  he  was  really  ignorant  of  the  author. 

I  had  been  an  anonymous  correspondent  with  Mr.  H.  S.  Woodfall 
some  years,  merely  in  gratification  of  my  political  principles  and 
feelings,  without  his  knowing  from  whom  he  derived  my  communi- 
cations ;  but  a  youthful  messenger  whom  I  once  sent  with  a  letter, 
met  him  at  his  own  door,  and  being  asked  from  whom  he  came, 
mentioned  my  name.  I  then  thought  it  necessary  to  let  him  know 
who  was  his  correspondent,  and  from  that  period  avowed  to  him  all 
my  humble  contributions  to  his  journal. 

At  a  later  period  I  became  acquainted  with  his  son,  Mr.  George 
Woodfall,  the  subject  of  my  present  notice,  who  at  the  period  alluded 
to  must  have  been  nearly  a  boy.  However,  it  has  been  my  good  for- 
tune to  become  intimate  with  him  at  his  own  and  other  hospitable 
tables,  particularly  at  that  of  Mr.  Alderman  Crowder. 

Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall  presented  to  me  the  first  collection 
of  the  Works  of  Junius,  corrected  by  the  author,  with  a  kind  of 
inscription  from  himself ;  and  when  his  son  George  brought  forth  his 
large  editiftn,  in  three  volumes,  including  all  the  private  letters  of 
Junius,  he  paid  me  the  same  gratifying  compliment.  Previous,  how- 
ever, to  this  compliment,  he  paid  me  one  much  higher,  in  requesting 
that  I  would  look  over  the  files  of  "  The  Public  Advertiser,"  before  the 
year  1769,  in  order  to  see  if  there  were  any  works  of  Junius  previous 
to  his  signature  under  that  name.  I  did  so,  and  found  a  letter  signed 
"  Publicola,"  which,  in  the  style  and  the  whole  scheme  of  the  com- 
position of  Junius,  wras  obviously  written  by  the  same  hand,  though 
not  w  ith  the  neat  and  polished  language  which  afterward  charac- 
terized those  letters  that  excited  the  attention  and  admiration  of  the 
public,  and  which  will  always  rank  among  the  chief  productions  of 
British  literature.  There  was  also  a  short  letter  signed  Junius,  but 
which  Mr.  H.  S.  Woodfall  did  not  include  in  the  first  collection. 

When,  by  the  treachery  of  a  partner,  I  was  deprived  of  the  pro- 
perty which  I  had  employed  a  great  part  of  my  life  in  acquiring,  and 
was  thrown  upon  the  world  at  an  advanced  age,  without  resource, 
Mr.  George  Woodfall,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  my  misfortune,  desired 
Mr.  Alexander  Chalmers  to  tell  me,  that  if  I  would  publish  my 
poems  by  subscription,  he  wrould  print  them  for  me  at  cost  price  ; 
and,  of  course,  I  accepted  his  generous  offer.  He,  Mr.  A.  Chalmers, 
and  Mr.  William  Nicol,  the  son  of  my  old  and  worthy  friend  the  late 
Mr.  George  Nicol,  of  Pall  Mall,  formed  a  kind  of  committee,  ar- 
ranged matters,  and  issued  proposals  for  the  publication,  and  exerted 
themselves  to  procure  subscribers,  after  having  liberally  subscribed 
themselves.  My  old  friend  Mr.  Freeling,  now  Sir  Francis,  kindly 
consented  to  join  this  amicable  committee,  but  there  was  no  occasion 
to  call  him  from  his  important  duties.    Messrs.  Paine  and  Foss,  Long- 


JULIUS'S  LETTERS. 


377 


man,  Rees,  Orme,  and  Co.,  J.  Richardson,  and  J.  Murray,  obligingly- 
received  subscriptions,  and  the  work  was  brought  forward  with  all 
due  expedition.  One  volume  only  was  proposed  to  the  subscribers  ; 
but  vanity,  pride,  and  folly,  which  indeed  all  mean  the  same  thing, 
tempted  me  to  bring  forth  all  the  trifles  I  had  written,  and  extend  it 
to  two,  not  reflecting  that  I  thereby  not  only  reduced  my  profits 
greatly,  but  gave  additional  trouble  to  Mr.  George  Woodfall,  as  well 
as  much  increased  my  obligation  to  him.  He,  however,  in  the  true 
spirit  of  friendship,  disregarded  the  increased  trouble  and  intrusion 
upon  his  press,  and  only  regretted,  on  my  account,  that  I  had  thus 
lessened  the  pecuniary  advantage  which  I  might  otherwise  have  de- 
rived from  so  extensive  and  so  honourable  a  list  of  subscribers.  It 
remains  for  me  to  say,  that  perhaps  a  more  correct  work,  so  far  as 
relates  to  typography,  never  issued  from  the  English  or  any  other 
press. 

To  return  for  a  few  moments  to  Junius,  a  writer  who,  for  his  zeal 
for  the  British  constitution,  and  the  spirit  and  elegance  with  which  he 
defended  it,  deserves  to  be  classed  among  its  strongest  champions : 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  was  inconsistent  and  cruel  in  the 
manner  in  which  he  mentioned  our  revered  sovereign  George  the 
Third.  Sometimes  Junius  speaks  of  that  amiable  monarch  as  pos- 
sessing the  best  of  hearts,  and  sometimes  as  one  of  the  basest  men 
in  the  kingdom ;  though  he  was  unable  to  bring  any  positive  charge 
against  the  king,  that,  if  justly  founded,  was  not  rather  applicable  to 
his  ministers. 

George  the  Third  was  a  quiet,  domestic,  and  benignant  monarch. 
He  was  fond  of  the  fine  arts,  and  was  a  liberal  patron  of  them.  To 
his  liberality  we  owe  the  Royal  Academy,  to  which  we  are  indebted 
for  that  progress  in  national  taste  which  has  rendered  the  British 
school  of  painting  superior  to  that  of  any  other  country.    He  was 
accused  of  being  obstinate  with  respect  to  the  American  war ;  but 
that  reputed  obstinacy  may  more  justly  be  considered  as  a  true  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  his  crown,  and  firmness  in  supporting  it,  that  he 
might  maintain  the  honour  of  the  empire,  and  transmit  it  unimpaired 
to  his  successors.    I  heard  the  great  Lord  Chatham  say  in  the  House 
of  Lords  on  this  subject,  as  I  have  mentioned  in  another  place,  ad- 
dressing the  advocates  for  American  independence,  "  Would  you 
disinherit  the  Prince  of  Wales  of  his  legitimate  possessions  ?"  And 
surely  his  majesty  had  a  right  to  try  to  retain  the  full  extent  of  his  do- 
minions. What  would  the  world  have  thought,  and  what  would  history 
have  said,  if  George  the  Third  had  surrendered  America  without  a 
struggle,  to  a  set  of  men  who  at  that  period  appeared  to  be  only  a 
band  of  ambitious  demagogues,  who  made  their  opposition  to  the 
government  at  home  the  ground  of  their  own  aspirations  to  lead  in  a 
republic  ?    Granting  that  it  was  a  hopeless  attempt  to  recover  the 
submission  of  the  American  colonies,  still  that  attempt  was  the  act 
of  his  ministers,  and  they  are  not  very  sound  statesmen  who  can  only 
form  their  judgments  when  the  events  are  before  them.    But  this 
important  question  is  now  effectually  settled.    America  seems  to  be 


378 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


under  a  wise  and  resolute  government,  which,  however,  no  political 
sagacity  could  possibly  anticipate  or  predict ;  and  it  is  probable  that 
both  countries  will  be  benefited  by  the  separation,  while  they  exist  in 
independence  and  in  friendship  with  each  other.  I  therefore  can- 
not but  condemn  Junius  for  his  virulence  and  gross  personality  against 
a  monarch,  who,  feeling  the  dignity  of  his  station,  was  anxious  to 
support  and  to  retain  the  whole  of  his  empire,  for  the  advantage  of 
his  country  as  well  as  from  his  own  conscientious  sense  of  duty,  and 
also  as  a  monarch  to  whom  was  intrusted  the  honour  and  welfare  of 
his  empire. 

Junius  was,  therefore,  in  a  dilemma,  for  if  he  thought  that  the 
ministers  acted  solely  according  to  the  uncontrollable  will  of  the 
monarch,  his  attacks  should  have  been  confined  to  the  monarch ;  but 
if  he  thought  that  the  monarch,  whose  private  virtues  he  acknow- 
ledged, submitted  to  the  judgment  and  discretion  of  his  ministers,  his 
censure  should  wholly  have  been  addressed  to  them.  But  the  wisest 
men  are  limited  in  their  faculties,  and  can  only  act  according  to  ex- 
isting circumstances  and  probable  prospects  ;  and  that  consideration 
will  excuse,  if  not  justify,  the  opposition  to  American  independence. 

There  is  this  insuperable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  all  attempts  to 
discover  the  author  of  Junius :  he  says,  "  I  am  the  sole  depositary  of 
my  own  secret,  and  it  shall  perish  with  me"  Therefore,  if  he  were 
to  avow  himself,  he  could  not  expect  to  be  credited,  and  nothing  but 
a  succession  of  letters,  written  with  equal  spirit,  vigour,  knowledge, 
and  satirical  severity,  could  support  his  pretensions.  My  friend  Mr. 
Richardson  informed  me  that  Charles  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan  thought 
lightly  of  Junius,  and  said  that  there  was  as  good  writing  every  day 
in  th o  newspapers.  The  public  evidently  think  otherwise ;  for,  though 
the  reputation  of  these  celebrated  compositions  has  been  assigned  to 
many  individuals,  public  confidence  has  not  been  attached  to  any 
of  them. 

My  friend  Dr.  Kelly,  of  Finsbury-square,  published  a  tract,  in 
order  to  prove  that  Burke  was  the  author,  and  cited  many  parallel 
passages  from  acknowledged  works  of  Burke,  comparing  them  with 
extracts  from  Junius,  yet  they  are  not  of  so  striking  a  similarity  as  to 
decide  the  question.  Junius,  in  recommending  a  union  among  the 
opponents  of  government  who  had  differences  among  themselves, 
says,  "  I  would  accept  a  simile  from  Mr.  Burke,  and  a  sarcasm  from 
Colonel  Barry."  This  was  written  while  Mr.  Burke  was  in  the 
zenith  of  his  reputation,  and  can  it  then  be  supposed  that  if  he  were 
Junius,  he  would  have  mentioned  himself  in  a  manner  bordering  on 
contempt,  as  if  he  could  offer  nothing  better  than  a  simile  as  an 
orator  and  a  politician  ?  As  to  the  opinion  of  Charles  Fox  and  Mr. 
Sheridan  respecting  the  merit  of  the  letters,  even  granting  that  the 
public  journals  contain  productions  of  great  excellence,  which  can- 
not, indeed,  be  denied,  yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  Junius  set  the 
example  of  a  style  which  improved  the  English  language,  and  has 
been  imitated  by  most  succeeding  writers  on  similar  topics. 

It  has  been  said  that  Dr.  Johnson  gave  a  dignity  to  the  language  ; 


JUNIUs's  LETTERS. 


379 


but  it  may  be  justly  observed,  that  his  style  has  never  been  imitated 
in  the  same  degree  as  that  of  Junius,  and  has  even  been  often  charged 
with  being  pompous,  turgid,  inflated,  and  disproportionate  to  the  sen- 
timents which  he  intended  to  express.  Dr.  Johnson's  remark,  that  in 
Junius  there  was  more  of  the  venom  of  the  shaft  than  the  vigour  of 
the  bow,  is  not  an  accurate  description,  for  it  is  hardly  possible  for 
language  to  be  stronger  than  that  of  Junius,  when  he  puts  forth  all 
his  vigour.  It  has  been  observed  that  Junius  never  attacked  Dr. 
Johnson,  and  from  his  silence  in  that  respect,  it  has  been  inferred 
that  Burke  was  the  author,  and,  therefore,  spared  Dr.  Johnson  as  a 
friend  ;  but  Burke  was  so  irritable  a  man  that  he  would  have  spared 
nobody,  even  as  an  avowed  author.  The  violence  and  virulence  of 
his  temper  were  evident  in  his  separation  from  Charles  Fox,  with 
whom  he  had  for  many  years  been  upon  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy 
and  friendship,  though  Fox  was  so  affected  as  to  shed  tears  on  the 
occasion ;  and  Burke  afterward  wrote  a  pamphlet  against  Fox,  ac- 
cusing him  of  treason,  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Adair's  mission  to  Rus- 
sia, as  the  imputed  ambassador  to  the  empress  from  Charles  Fox  and 
his  party. 

But  with  respect  to  the  forbearance  of  Junius  towards  Dr.  Johnson, 
it  may  reasonably  be  supposed  that  he  alluded  to  Johnson  when  he 
mentioned  "  the  learned  dulness  of  declamation,"  and  had  no  occasion 
to  appear  in  more  direct  opposition  to  the  great  moralist  and  poli- 
tician ;  if  he  had  attacked  him,  however,  it  is  by  no  means  probable 
that  he  would  have  sunk  under  the  weight  of  the  ponderous  lexicog- 
rapher. 

It  has  been  said  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  Burke  to  imitate  any 
style,  and  his  pamphlet  in  the  manner  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  has  been 
mentioned  as  affording  a  proof  that  he  was  master  of  the  language, 
and  could  therefore  easily  assume  that  of  Junius ;  but  it  was  not 
so  much  the  language  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  that  he  imitated,  as  his 
lordship's  mode  of  reasoning,  for  there  is  not  so  marked  a  character 
in  his  style  as  in  his  argument  and  the  general  tendency  of  his  com- 
positions. Perhaps,  too,  if  Burke's  pamphlet  had  not  been  brought 
forward  as  an  avowed  resemblance  of  the  manner  of  Lord  Boling- 
broke, it  never  would  have  appeared  in  that  light  to  the  public. 
Besides,  when  Junius  wrote  his  first  letter,  which  bears  no  resem- 
blance to  the  style  of  Burke,  he  had  no  reason  to  apprehend  that  he 
should  be  drawn  into  a  controversy  which  would  render  it  necessary 
for  him  to  conceal  himself  from  the  world  at  large,  and  oblige  him 
to  assume  a  style  different  from  his  own,  as  would  have  been  the 
case  if  Burke  had  been  the  author.  "  Style,"  says  Gibbon,  "  is  the 
image  of  character,"  and  Burke's  natural  style  was  too  diffuse,  flowery, 
and  metaphorical  to  represent  such  a  character  as  might  be  supposed 
to  attach  to  Junius,  who  is  shrewd,  compact,  neat,  and  pointed. 

But  of  all  the  absurd  attempts  to  discover  Junius,  that  of  Mr. 
Philip  Thicknesse  was  the  most  hopeless  and  improbable,  who  pub- 
lished a  pamphlet  to  prove  that  Mr.  Home  Tooke  was  the  author, 
as  if  Mr.  Home  Tooke  would  assume  an  anonymous  character  to 


380 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


triumph  over  himself :  to  say  nothing  of  the  laboured  accuracy  of 
his  style  compared  with  that  of  Junius,  besides  many  other  considera- 
tions that  must  occur  to  every  reflecting  mind.  I  have  mentioned  in 
another  place  that  Mr.  Home  Tooke  told  me  that  he  knew  the  author 
of  Junius  thirty  years  after  Junius  ceased  to  write,  and  when  he  could 
hardly  have  had  any  reason  for  concealment. 

My  old  friend  Mr.  Boaden,  a  gentleman  well  known  and  justly 
respected  in  the  literary  world,  has  devoted  much  attention  to  the 
subject  of  Junius,  and  at  one  time  was  disposed  to  give  the  palm  to 
Mr.  Gibbon,  and  has  cited  many  passages  from  both  writers  which 
bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  each  other.  Mr.  Boaden  addressed 
the  late  Lord  Sheffield  in  a  letter,  and  cited  those  parallel  passages. 
His  lordship  returned  a  very  polite  answer,  but,  though  he  differed 
from  Mr.  Boaden,  and  intimated  that  he  knew  Mr.  Gibbon  was  not 
Junius,  yet  his  lordship  did  not  offer  any  strong  reason  to  support  his 
positive  negation.  That  Mr.  Gibbon  had  a  power  of  sarcasm  and  a 
force  of  eloquence  sufficient  to  justify  Mr.  Boadeirs  surmise,  is  evi- 
dent ;  but  considering  the  benevolence  of  Mr.  Gibbon's  character, 
and  the  suavity  of  his  manner,  it  may  be  doubtful  whether  he  would 
ever  have  written  with  the  virulence  and  asperity  which  may  often 
be  discovered  in  the  letters  of  Junius. 

I  attended  the  late  Dr.  William  Hunter's  lectures  on  anatomy  at 
the  same  time  that  Mr.  Gibbon  and  Dr.  Adam  Smith  were  fellow- 
pupils,  and  heard  much  of  the  conversation  which  passed  between 
the  former  and  Dr.  Hunter ;  for  Mr.  Gibbon,  at  the  end  of  every 
lecture,  used  to  leave  his  seat  to  thank  the  doctor  for  the  pleasure  and 
instruction  which  he  had  received.  The  mild,  courteous,  polite,  and 
affable  manners  which  Mr.  Gibbon  on  these  occasions  manifested, 
were  very  different  from  those  which  may  be  supposed  to  have  ani- 
mated the  mind  of  Junius ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  piety  of  Junius 
occasionally,  which  will  hardly  be  attributed  to  the  skeptical  historian. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

Though  I  have  mentioned  Mr.  Sheridan  under  a  particular  head, 
yet  as  I  write  without  method,  and  as  matters  casually  occur  to  my 
memory,  I  shall  insert  them  as  they  present  themselves.  If  I  did 
not  seize  these  scattered  recollections,  they  would  perhaps  never 
recur. 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  one  of  our  great  men,  and  will  not  only  live  in 
dramatic  annals,  but  be  recorded  in  the  history  of  the  country.  His 
errors  as  well  as  his  good  qualities  should  be  known,  that  they  who 
may  emulate  his  merits  may  also  avoid  his  faults.  He  is  a  proof  how 
a  mind  originally  proud,  delicate,  and  honourable,  may  be  warped 
and  injured  by  adversity,  which  often  sours  the  temper  and  corrupts 


MR.  SHERIDAN. 


381 


the  heart.  Almost  all  his  errors  may  be  imputed  to  his  necessities, 
which  destroyed  the  balance  of  his  mind.  His  talents  raised  him 
into  a  rank  which  he  had  not  the  means  of  supporting.  When  sober, 
he  was  cheerful  and  good-humoured.  When  he  had  drunk  too 
much,  he  sometimes  became  misanthropic,  splenetic,  ready,  and 
almost  eager,  to  offend.  Our  mutual  friend,  Joe  Richardson,  who 
was  a  penetrating  observer,  and  knew  Sheridan  better  than  anybody, 
said  that  in  his  sullen  fits  he  "  would  search  his  mind  for  the  bitterest 
things  that  he  could  conceive,"  and  freely  give  vent  to  them  against 
the  person  at  whom  his  temporary  pique,  or  rather  anger,  might  be 
directed.  But  this  was  the  result  of  those  pecuniary  difficulties 
which  compelled  his  pride  to  submit  to  obligation. 

I  will  only  mention  one  instance  of  this  unfortunate  disposition, 
which  occurred  at  a  time  of  convivial  excess,  that  happened  at  Kelly's 
saloon  in  Pall  Mall,  which  Kelly  kindly  concealed,  but  which  I  learned 
from  Richardson.  On  this  occasion  he  had  taken  offence  against  the 
late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  and  had  assailed  him  in  the  most  bitter  manner. 
Kemble  had  borne  this  venomous  hostility  for  some  time  with  great 
patience,  and  had  pushed  round  the  bottle  in  hopes  that  Sheridan 
might  be  tempted  to  drink  away  his  anger ;  but  finding  that,  as  the 
lion  lashes  himself  into  fury,  so  Sheridan's  rancour  seemed  to  increase, 
unable  to  bear  the  provocation  any  longer,  Kemble  seized  a  decanter 
and  threw  it  at  Sheridan,  who  luckily  turned  his  head  aside  and 
escaped  a  blow  which  might  otherwise  have  been  fatal.  The  com- 
pany then  interfered,  Sheridan  apologized  for  his  ill-humour,  and  as 
they  were  really  both  liberal-minded  and  good-natured  men,  they 
went  out  soon  after  in  perfect  amity  together. 

Sheridan  was  indeed  good-natured,  and  if  he  had  been  a  man  of 
fortune  would  not  only  have  been  a  man  of  nice  honour,  as  Richardson 
said  of  him,  but  have  been  a  liberal  patron  and  a  generous  friend.  I 
met  him  one  day  while  the  naval  mutiny  spread  a  general  alarm, 
when  Mr.  Canning  had  styled  him  the  *  ■  glorious  exception"  from  the 
revolutionary  principles  of  his  party ;  and,  alluding  to  his  conduct  in 
parliament,  which  had  procured  him  this  honourable  distinction,  he 
said,  "  Well,  Taylor,  though  our  politics  differ,  what  do  you  think  of 
me  now  I"  "  Why,"  said  I,  "  it  is  possible  for  people  to  condemn  in 
public  what  they  privately  encourage."  "  Now,"  said  he, "  that's  very 
unhandsome."  "  What !"  rejoined  I,  "  you,  the  great  wit  of  the  age, 
not  take  a  joke  ?"  "  Oh,"  said  he,  recovering  his  good-humour  in  a 
moment, "  a  joke,  is  it  ?  Well,  it  is,  however,  the  dullest  I  ever  heard, 
and  I  am  sorry  you  have  no  better,  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  at 
Polesden." 

Having  been  annoyed  by  the  appearance  of  flying  spots  on  the 
paper  when  he  read  or  wrote,  he  sent  to  me,  requesting  that  I  would 
call  on  him  and  give  him  my  opinion  upon  the  subject.  As  I  was 
going  I  met  Mr.  Courteney,  the  Irish  wit,  who  was  long  the  Momus 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  Hearing  I  was  going  to  look  at  Sheri- 
dan's eyes,  he  asked  the  reason.  I  told  him  that  Sheridan  complained 
of  flying  spots  before  them,  which  were  called  "  muscce-volantes" 

R3 


382 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


*  No,"  said  Mr.  Courteney,  "  with  Sheridan  they  should  be  called 
vino- colonies." 

Mr.  Sheridan  asked  me  one  morning  to  attend  the  rehearsal  of 
Hamlet  by  Mr.  Foote,  a  nephew  of  my  old  friend  Jesse  Foote,  the 
popular  surgeon.  I  went  to  the  theatre  and  concealed  myself  in  one 
of  the  upper  boxes  until  the  rehearsal  ended,  and  then  joined  Mr. 
Sheridan  on  the  stage.  1  afterward  wrote  an  introductory  address 
for  Mr.  Foote.  Mr.  Foote,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  recited  the 
first  speech  of  Richard  the  Third,  and  was  kindly  encouraged  by  Mr. 
Sheridan.  In  the  course  of  conversation,  I  asked  Mr.  Sheridan  what 
he  thought  of  Garrick's  Richard.  He  said  it  was  very  fine,  but  in 
his  opinion  not  terrible  enough.  I  mentioned  this  opinion  to  Mrs. 
Siddons,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Good  God  !  what  could  be  more  terri- 
ble V  She  then  told  me,  that  when  she  was  rehearsing  the  part  of 
Lady  Anne  to  Garrick's  Richard,  in  the  morning,  he  desired  that  when 
at  night  he  led  her  from  the  sofa,  she  would  follow  him  step  by  step, 
as  he  said  he  did  a  great  deal  with  his  face,  and  wished  not  to  turn  it 
from  the  audience ;  but  such  was  the  terrific  impression  which  his 
acting  produced  upon  her,  that  she  was  too  much  absorbed  to  pro- 
ceed, and  obliged  him,  therefore,  to  turn  his  back,  on  which  he  gave 
her  such  a  terrible  frown,  that  she  was  always  disturbed  when  she 
recollected  it. 

During  the  agitation  of  the  first  Regency  bill,  when  Lord  Lough- 
borough so  unluckily  involved  the  opposition  in  legal  difficulty,  which 
the  presence  of  mind  and  sound  wisdom  of  Mr.  Pitt  rendered  insu- 
perable, I  became,  by  a  circumstance  of  some  importance  in  the 
political  world  at  that  time,  the  conductor  of  "  The  Morning  Post." 
it  appeared  that  a  lady,  supposed  to  be  in  great  favour  with  a  high 
personage,  and  not  merely  connected  by  the  ties  of  mutual  affection, 
had  determined  to  assert  claims  not  sanctioned  by  law,  but  which,  if 
openly  developed,  or  rather  promulgated,  would,  perhaps,  have  been 
attended  by  a  national  agitation.  It  was  stated  in  "  The  Morning 
Post,"  rather  as  rumour  than  assertion,  that  the  lady  in  question  had 
demanded  a  peerage  and  600GZ.  a  year,  as  a  requital  for  her  sup- 
pression of  a  fact  which  might  have  excited  alarm  over  the  empire, 
and  have  put  an  effectual  stop  to  all  farther  proceedings  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  pending  regency. 

I  was  engaged  merely  as  the  dramatic  critic  for  "  The  Morning 
Post"  at  that  time,  and  was  on  intimate  terms  with  a  confidential  ser- 
vant of  the  high  personage  alluded  to.  This  confidential  servant  sent 
to  me,  and  when  I  went  to  him  lie  assured  me  that  there  was  not  the 
least  foundation  for  the  paragraph  in  question,  and  requested  that  I 
would  convey  this  assurance  to  the  person  who  hstdfarmed  the  paper 
from  the  chief  proprietor.  I  told  him  I  was  convinced  that  such  a 
communication  would  have  no  effect,  or  rather  a  contrary  effect,  for 
that,  finding  the  subject  had  made  an  impression,  it  would  certainly 
be  followed  by  articles  of  the  same  nature  and  tendency,  and  that 
silence  was  the  best  policy.  The  person  alluded  to  did  not  seem  to 
foe  convinced  by  my  reasoning,  and  determined  to  consult  people 


EDITOR  OF  THE  MORNING  POST. 


more  likely  to  form  a  better  judgment ;  yet  he  desired  me  in  the 
mean  time  to  convey  the  assurance  which  he  had  given.  I  did  so, 
and,  as  I  expected,  there  was  next  day  a  stronger  allusion  to  the  same 
mysterious  and  alarming  event.  The  same  confidential  agent,  then 
satisfied  of  the  propriety  of  the  advice  which  I  had  first  given,  asked 
me  if  I  thought  that  the  farmer  of  the  paper,  who  was  also  a  proprie- 
tor, would  dispose  of  the  period  for  which  he  was  authorized  to  con- 
duct it,  and  of  his  share  in  the  paper ;  and  I  was  desired  to  make  the 
requisite  inquiry.  I  did  so,  and  as  the  farmer  possessed  no  literary 
talents,  and  "  The  Morning  Post"  had  sunk  under  his  management 
into  a  very  different  state  from  its  present  fashionable  interest  and 
political  importance,  he  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  relieving  him- 
self from  a  weight  which  he  had  not  strength  enough  to  carry.  He, 
therefore,  struck  the  iron  while  it  was  hot,  received  a  large  sum  for 
his  share  of  the  paper,  another  for  the  time  that  he  was  to  hold  a  con- 
trol over  it,  and  an  annuity  for  life.  Such  was  the  importance  attached 
to  this  mysterious  secret :  "  The  Morning  Post"  was  purchased  for 
the  allotted  period,  and  I  was  vested  with  the  editorship.  I  may  here 
mention  a  circumstance  that  illustrates  the  character,  or  rather  the 
opinion  of  Dr.  Wolcot.  When  the  confidential  agent  to  whom  I  have 
alluded  first  communicated  to  me  the  extravagant  claims  of  the  lady 
in  question,  and  the  public  commotion  which  she  was  likely  to  occa- 
sion if  she  persevered  in  her  pretensions ;  the  doctor,  who  was  present, 
laughed,  and  said, "  Oh  !  there  is  no  reason  to  be  alarmed,  the  matter 
is  easily  settled."  When  I  asked  him  what  was  to  be  done,  his  answer 
was,  "Why  poison  her."  "  What !"  said  I, "  doctor,  commit  murder  ?" 
"  Murder !"  rejoined  he,  "  there  is  nothing  in  it ;  it  is  state  policy,  and 
is  always  done."  Though  the  doctor  said  this  with  jocularity,  yet 
such  was  the  impression  that  history  had  made  on  his  mind,  and  such 
his  opinion  of  all  foreign  courts,  that  having  very  unfavourable  ideas 
of  mankind  in  general,  he  might  indeed  impute  the  probability  of  such 
a  practice  to  our  own  court.  He  certainly  had  no  intention  to  suggest 
such  an  expedient  upon  the  present  occasion ;  but  if  there  was  any 
temptation  for  a  joke,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  resist  it. 

I  held  the  situation  of  editor  for  about  two  years,  as  far  as  I  can 
recollect ;  but  as  the  chief  proprietor,  from  whom  it  had  been  farmed, 
not  only  disapproved  of  my  editorship,  but,  as  he  said,  u  thought  I  had 
not  devil  enough  for  the  conduct  of  a  public  journal,"  and  frequently 
expressed  his  discontent,  and  as  the  great  business  which  had  occa- 
sioned the  purchase  had  passed  by,  I  signified  my  readiness  to  relin- 
quish the  management,  and  two  young  Irishmen  were  introduced  as 
my  successors.  Knowing  the  dashing  spirit  of  the  Irish  character,  I 
advised  the  printer,  who  received  a  weekly  sum  to  be  responsible  for 
the  contents  of  the  paper,  to  be  careful  what  he  inserted.  He  assured 
me  with  thanks  that  he  should  be  cautious ;  but  the  result  was,  that 
soon  after  he  was  confined  in  Newgate  during  twelve  months  for  the 
insertion  of  a  libel,  and  an  action  was  brought  against  the  proprietor 
himself  for  another  on  a  lady  of  quality,  which  subjected  him  to  three 
thousand  pounds  damages,  and  enormous  law  expenses.   He  then,  I 


384 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LITE. 


heard,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  lamented  that  he  "  had  ever  parted 
with  Mr.  Taylor."  To  add  to  his  misfortune,  the  lady  in  question 
subsequently  gave  occasion  to  a  suspicion  that  the  original  charge 
against  her  was  not  without  foundation.  Whether,  with  a  due  sense 
of  morality,  he  regretted  more  her  imputed  desertion  from  virtue  than 
the  loss  of  his  money,  I  never  thought  it  necessary  to  inquire. 

As  to  the  mysterious  transaction  which  led  to  this  extraordinary 
purchase,  it  indeed  was  understood,  that  the  distinguished  female  in 
question  received  a  recompense  for  withholding  her  demands  adequate 
to  the  full  extent  of  her  ambitious  pretensions.  It  may  amuse  the 
reader  to  say  a  few  words  more  respecting  the  proprietor  of  "  The 
Morning  Post,"  who  disgusted  me  so  much  as  to  induce  me  to  resign 
a  profitable  engagement,  because  my  conduct  of  the  paper  was  con- 
trary to  his  opinions,  if  he  was  able  to  form  any. 

It  was  urged  in  mitigation  of  damages  in  his  defence  to  the  action 
brought  against  him  for  the  libel  on  the  lady  of  quality,  that  he  never 
interfered  in  the  management  of  the  paper,  but  purchased  a  share  in 
it,  merely  as  he  would  do  to  farm  the  post-horse  duties,  or  to  be  con- 
cerned in  any  mercantile  speculation.  The  truth  however  is,  that  he 
was  always  interfering,  and  before  the  time  that  I  have  mentioned  as 
having  myself  been  appointed  the  editor,  the  person  to  whom  he  had 
surrendered  the  whole  control  of  the  paper  had  employed  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Jackson,  afterward  so  well  known,  and  who  was  tried  in  Dublin 
for  treasonable  practices,  to  write  the  leading  articles  for  "  The  Morning 
Post."  Mr.  Jackson  was  a  very  able  writer,  and  gave  such  a  variety 
to  his  political  compositions  as  rendered  them  very  amusing,  as  well 
as  expressive.  He  generally  wrote  in  a  very  large  hand,  upon  very 
large  sheets  of  paper,  which  appeared  like  maps,  or  atlases  spread 
over  the  table.  The  proprietor  in  question,  unexpectedly  entering 
the  room  one  evening,  suddenly  retreated  in  dismay,  and  afterward 
observed  that  Mr.  Jackson  should  be  dismissed,  otherwise  he  would 
ruin  the  property  by  the  vast  quantity  of  paper  which  he  consumed 
in  writing  his  political  articles. 

He  had  been  prepared  with  a  lesson  to  complain  of  my  manage- 
ment of  the  paper,  but  unluckily  had  not  memory  sufficient  to  retain 
his  task.  Among  other  complaints,  he  told  me  that  the  paper  was 
wholly  confined  to  polities,  and  had  none  of  those  little  antidotes  which 
had  before  diverted  the  readers.  The  poor,  or  rather,  indeed,  rich 
man,  had  doubtless  anecdotes  strongly  impressed  upon  his  mind,  but 
not  understanding  the  meaning  of  the  word,  it  is  not  wonderful  that 
he  should  have  forgotten  the  sound.  His  late  majesty,  when  Prince 
of  Wales,  once  dined  with  this  person  at  his  country-seat,  and  having 
observed  that  the  wine  was  very  good, "  Yes,"  said  his  wise  landlord, 
*  it  is  very  good,  but  I  have  better  in  my  cellar."  "  Oh  !"  said  the 
prince,  "  then  1  suppose  you  keep  it  for  better  company."  This  re- 
buke, however,  was  quite  unintelligible  to  "  mine  host,"  who  did  not 
think  of  sending  for  a  bottle  of  his  superior  vintage. 

While  I  conducted  "  The  Morning  Post,"  the  evenings  passed  pleas- 
antly at  the  office.    Dr.  Wolcot  was  a  constant  visiter,  and  generally 


EDITOR  OF  THE  MORNING  POST. 


385 


wrote  some  whimsical  articles  for  the  paper.  Mr.  Merry,  generally 
known  by  his  poetical  designation  of  Delia  Crusca,  was  a  frequent 
visiter,  and  he  and  I  used  to  scribble  verses  in  conjunction.  Mr.  Bil- 
lington  also,  the  first  husband  of  the  celebrated  syren,  a  man  of  great 
humour,  often  enlivened  the  society  by  humorous  remarks,  and  anec- 
dotes of  the  musical  and  fashionable  circles.  Yet  the  business  of  the 
paper  was  not  neglected,  for  I  have  often  remained  at  the  office  till 
three  o'clock,  to  revise,  correct,  and  guard  against  the  accidental  in- 
sertion of  any  improper  article,  moral  or  political. 

I  endeavoured  all  I  could  to  procure  a  regular  salary  for  Dr. 
Wolcot,  having  a  high  opinion  of  his  inventive  powers  and  humour, 
but  the  surly  proprietor  was  taught  to  be  afraid  of  the  freedom  of  his 
muse.  I  even  offered  the  doctor  half  of  my  weekly  salary,  but 
neither  his  pride  nor  his  delicacy  would  permit  him  to  assent,  and  he 
still  supplied  his  gratuitous  effusions,  chiefly  of  the  poetical  kind. 
We  were  plentifully  supplied  with  punch,  the  doctor's  favourite  bev- 
erage, and  as  far  as  our  limited  party  admitted,  the  meeting  might  be 
considered  as  Comus's  court.  This  literary  and  convivial  revelry 
continued  nearly  to  the  end  of  the  two  years  during  which  I  held  the 
editorship  of  "  The  Morning  Post."  Here  I  feel  myself  under  the 
painful  necessity  of  mentioning  my  quondam  friend  Merry  in  a  man- 
ner unfavourable  to  his  character,  and  distressing  to  my  feelings,  as 
notwithstanding  his  treatment  of  me,  I  really  regarded  him  almost  as 
a  brother,  and  still  feel  towards  him  an  affectionate  regret. 

He  had  requested  me  to  endeavour  to  induce  the  late  Mr.  Harris^ 
then  chief  proprietor  of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  to  renew  his  wife's 
engagement.  Mr.  Harris  said  that  he  should  be  very  glad  to  re- 
engage her  at  his  theatre,  but  that  he  was  persuaded  he  should  be  sub- 
ject to  attacks  from  her  husband  in  the  newspapers,  unless  she  was 
allowed  to  perform  every  character  she  liked,  and  to  be  provided 
with  the  most  expensive  dresses.  He  desired  me  to  get  him  out  of 
the  dilemma,  which  he  deemed  the  application  to  be,  and  to  say  that 
his  company  was  too  abundantly  supplied  with  performers  in  general 
to  admit  of  any  more.  I  endeavoured  to  satisfy  Merry  with  this  an- 
swer, but  in  vain  ;  he  expressed  much  discontent  with  the  rejection 
of  the  lady,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  Mr.  Harris  was  in  con- 
sequence the  subject  of  his  newspaper  hostility. 

When  this  negotiation  failed,  Mr.  Merry  requested  that  I  would 
write  to  Mr.  Stephen  Kemble,  who  was  related  to  me  by  marriage, 
and  then  the  manager  of  the  theatre  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  and 
try  to  procure  an  engagement  for  Mrs.  Merry.  I  did  so,  but,  pend- 
ing this  new  negotiation,  there  appeared  in  an  obscure  evening  news- 
paper called  "  The  Telegraph,  and  long  since  defunct,  a  violent  attack 
upon  me,  not  mentioning  my  name,  but  alluding  to  me  in  my  pro- 
fession of  oculist.  The  cause  of  this  attack  was  an  account  of  the 
representation  of  "  Venice  Preserved,"  which  vehemently  censured 
the  democratical  principles  that  were  inculcated  by  Pierre  and  bis 
fellow- reformers.    This  account  appeared  in  a  daily  paper,  also  now 


386 


RECORDS  OF  MY  tlFJa. 


defunct,  entitled  "  The  True  Briton,"  of  which  I  WIS  then  a  pro- 
prietor. 

Merry  perhaps  suspected  that  the  account  was  written  hf  me,  but 
if  so  he  was  mistaken,  for  though  I  was  one  of  the  proprietors  of 
the  paper,  the  conductor  at  that  time  was  the  late  John  Gifford,  Esq., 
afterward  one  of  the  police  magistrates.  Conscious  of  my  integrity, 
and  not  ashamed  of  my  attachment  to  the  political  principles  and 
judicious  administration  of  the  glorious  William  Pitt,  I  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  take  any  notice  of  the  anonymous  libel  ;  but  many  of 
my  friends  thought  otherwise,  and  observed,  that  if  I  remained  wholly 
silent,  I  should  be  thought  to  acquiesce  in  the  truth  of  the  charges. 
I  therefore  applied  by  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  paper,  an  Irishman 
named  M'Donnell,  whom  I  had  known  before,  requiring  the  name  of 
the  author,  expressing  my  suspicion  that  the  libel  upon  me  had  been 
written  by  a  known  defamatory  author  of  that  time.  M'Donnell 
affected  to  consider  it  as  an  insult  that  I  supposed  he  could  be  ac- 
quainted with  such  a  character  as  I  described,  and  therefore  replied 
that  the  matter  ought  now  to  be  settled  between  him  and  me.  Con- 
sidering this  hostile  intimation  as  an  attempt  to  evade  my  farther  en- 
deavours to  discover  the  writer,  I  laughed  at  his  implied  proposition, 
and  assured  him  that  I  should  resort  to  the  law,  not  to  the  field,  for  a 
decision.  Finding  me  resolute,  he  relaxed  from  his  martial  menaces, 
was  very  civil,  and  assured  me  that  before  the  end  of  a  month  I 
should  know  the  author. 

Previous  to  this  application,  as  M'Donnell  had  entered  the  Temple 
as  a  barrister,  I  examined  the  entry  to  procure  his  Christian  name, 
that  I  might  be  prepared  for  a  prosecution,  and  in  my  letter,  I  ad- 
dressed him  to  the  full  extent  of  his  Christian  and  surname,  to  alarm 
him  as  to  the  possible  consequences.  To  my  utter  astonishment,  at 
the  end  of  about  a  week,  I  received  a  letter  from  Merry,  acknow- 
ledging himself  to  be  the  author  of  the  libel  upon  the  man  who  at  that 
very  time  was  endeavouring  to  serve  him  by  procuring  an  engage- 
ment for  his  wife.  I  received  this  acknowledgment  rather  "  in  sor- 
row than  in  anger,"  and  admiring  Merry  for  his  genius,  his  humour, 
and  his  learning,  thought  of  taking  no  other  notice  of  his  letter  than 
to  show  it  to  our  mutual  friends  for  my  own  justification.  I  may  as 
well,  however,  insert  the  libel,  in  order  to  show  the  full  extent  of 
treachery,  malice,  and  ingratitude,  which  characterized  the  whole 
transaction. 

"A  Query. — Who  is  the  man  that  can  violate  every  principle  of 
private  confidence  ?  Who  is  the  man  that  can  sacrifice  every  prin- 
ciple of  public  virtue  to  the  most  sordid  self-interest  ?  Who  is  the 
man  that,  without  remorse,  can  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  domestic 
happiness  ?  Who  is  the  man  that,  without  mercy  or  common  decency, 
can  wound  the  peace  of  every  honest  individual  ?  Who  is  the  man 
that  is  false  to  his  friends,  inimical  to  the  liberties  of  his  country,  the 
slanderer  of  all  merit,  the  panegyrist  of  all  infamij?  Who  is  the 
most  venal,  the  most  shameless,  the  most  savage  of  mankind  ?  The 


MR.  MERRY. 


387 


enemy  of  hope,  the  advocate  of  despair  ?  It  is  the  Reptile  Ocu- 
list. "  Hie  niger  est,  hunc  tu  Romane  caveto" 

I  revive  this  elaborate  and  atrocious  libel,  because  I  am  conscious 
that  it  is  in  every  point  wholly  inapplicable  to  me,  and  because  it  is  a 
striking  illustration  of  the  malignity  to  which  human  nature  may  be 
reduced.  While  Merry  was  a  man  of  fortune,  which  was  before  I 
knew  him,  I  have  heard  from  good  judges  that  he  was  liberal,  open- 
hearted,  and  benevolent ;  but  he  had  exhausted  his  fortune,  and  it 
was  said  that  he  was  Ghiefly  supported  by  an  English  lady  of  quality 
in  Florence,  till  the  lady  had  formed  a  connexion  with  a  person  of 
high  rank. 

Merry  was  in  France  during  the  most  frantic  period  of  the  French 
revolution,  and  had  imbibed  all  the  levelling  principles  of  the  most 
furious  democrat ;  having  lost  his  fortune,  and  in  despair,  he  would 
most  willingly  have  promoted  the  destruction  of  the  British  govern- 
ment, if  he  could  have  entertained  any  hopes  of  profiting  in  the 
general  scramble  for  power. 

To  resume  my  story.  In  consequence  of  the  apprehension  of 
legal  punishment  for  this  unprovoked  and  malignant  libel,  the  follow- 
ing article  was  inserted  in  "  The  Telegraph  :" — "  An  article  appeared 
in  this  paper  of  the  fourth  instant,  under  the  title  of  a  Query,  describ- 
ing, in  the  grossest  terms,  the  gentleman  against  whom  it  was  directed. 
Those  who  know  the  hurry  with  which  a  newspaper  is  made  up, 
will  allow  for  the  accidental  insertion  of  offensive  matter ;  and  as 
such  was  the  case  in  that  instance,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  expressing 
our  regret  that  the  article  in  question  was  admitted,  as  we  are  fully 
convinced  the  gentleman  alluded  to  is  not  a  proper  object  for  such  an 
attack."  This  article  appeared  in  "  The  Telegraph"  of  the  23d  of 
November,  1795.  On  the  30th  of  the  same  month,  to  my  utter 
astonishment,  I  received  the  following  letter  from  Mr.  Merry,  the  last 
man  on  earth  whom  I  should  have  suspected  of  having  written  the 
libel  in  question. 

"  to  john  taylor,  esq. 

"My  dear  Friend, 

"  Mr.  M  (M'Donnell)  has  informed  me  that  you  impute  to  me 

a  paragraph  which  appeared  some  time  ago  in  "  The  Telegraph."  I 
will  be  candid  with  you  and  explain  the  matter.  We  had  been  drinking 
a  great  deal  of  wine,  and  in  fact  I  was  drunk.  When  "  The  True 
Briton"  was  produced,  in  which  were  some  very  cruel  and  malignant 
attacks  on  Mr.  Barnes,  Mr.  Bannister,  and  another,  the  intent  of  which 
appeared  to  strike  at  the  life  of  the  first-mentioned  gentleman,  and 
at  the  professional  interest  of  the  latter,  it  was  absolutely  affirmed 
that  you  were  the  author.  In  consequence,  the  obnoxious  paragraph 
was  produced,  and  1  own  that,  heated  as  I  was  with  wine,  my  indig- 
nation got  the  better  of  every  other  consideration,  and  I  was  aiding 
and  abetting  in  the  composition  of  the  same.  I  really,  however, 
never  felt  more  hurt  or  confounded  than  when  I  saw  it  on  the  fol- 
lowing day — and  being  now  perfectly  convinced  that  you  were  not 


388 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


the  author  of  the  paragraph  which  had  so  exasperated  us,  I  do  most 
willingly  and  sincerely  beg  your  pardon  for  the  part  I  took  in  the 
transaction,  and  hope  you  will  forgive  me,  and  endeavour  to  forget  it. 
You  cannot  suppose  that  I  could  wish  to  hurt  you  in  any  way,  as  I 
have  never  received  any  unkindness  from  you ;  on  the  contrary,  have 
always  found  you  ready  to  do  me  any  good  office  in  your  power.  I 
again  repeat,  that  I  am  truly  concerned  at  what  has  happened,  and 
that  I  never  will  be  induced  to  act  in  any  manner  by  you  but  as  your 
friend  and  well-wisher.  Believe  me,  I  feel  the  truest  regard  for  you,, 
and  am  sincerely  and  affectionately  yours, 

"  R.  M. 

"  November  30,  1795." 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  a  letter  from  the 
editor  of  "  The  Telegraph"  assured  me  that  he  received  the  libel  in 
question  not  from  a  jiarty,  as  Mr.  Merry's  letter  imports,  but  from  an 
individual.  In  the  next,  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  Mr.  Barnes 
mentioned  in  the  letter,  but  remember  that  a  person  of  that  name 
had  been  suspected  of  having  fired  an  air-gun  at  our  revered  monarch 
George  the  Third,  about  that  period.  As  to  Mr.  Bannister  (junior), 
I  had  the  pleasure  to  be  acquainted  with  him  early  in  life,  and  was  so 
zealous  in  supporting  him,  that  his  father  never  met  me  without  say- 
ing, "  I  am  at  all  times  glad  to  see  you,  as  you  have  been  always  Jack's 
friend."  Finally,  I  repeat,  that  I  was  not  the  author  of  the  paragraph 
that  Mr.  Merry  states  to  have  been  the  cause  of  his  furious  attack 
upon  me. 

What  adds  to  the  wonder  of  this  extraordinary  transaction,  a 
short  time  before,  at  Mr.  Merry's  desire,  I  wrote  the  prologue  to  his 
tragedy  entitled  "  Lorenzo,"  to  preserve  the  memory  of  our  friend- 
ship, and,  to  use  his  own  words,  "  that  we  might  go  down  to  posterity 
together."  I  had  determined  to  take  no  notice  of  Mr.  Merry's  let- 
ter, but  meeting  my  old  and  valued  friend  Sir  William  Beechey,  at 
the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  George  Dance,  architect  and  R.A.,  Sir 
William  strenuously  advised  me  to  publish  it  in  defence  of  my  char- 
acter. I  did  so,  with  an  account  of  the  whole  transaction,  which  I 
circulated  among  my  friends.  After  this  publication  I  received  an- 
other letter  from  Mr.  Merry,  soliciting  a  renewal  of  our  intercourse, 
and  that  we  might  "  shake  hands  in  amity.'"  Of  this  letter  of  course 
I  took  no  notica,  but  had  soon  after  the  mortification  of  seeing  him 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way  in  Marlborough-street,  looking  at  me 
as  he  passed  with  the  aspect  of  dejection  and  dismay. 

Poor  Merry,  I  was  proud  of  his  friendship  !  When  I  review  what 
I  have  written  respecting  him,  I  cannot  but  apprehend  that  I  may  be 
thought  to  harbour  too  much  resentment  against  an  old  friend,  for 
whom  I  have  acknowledged  that  I  felt  a  sincere  regard  as  well  as 
admiration ;  but  his  anonymous  attack  upon  me  was  so  bitter,  so 
minute,  and  so  comprehensive,  that  I  cannot  but  fear  also  it  may 
have  had  some  effect  upon  my  character  with  those  who  do  not  know 
me,  and  though  conscious  of  integrity,  and  "  a  conscience  void  of 


MR.  MERRY  MR.  JOHN  GIFFORD.  389 

offence,"  yet  I  am  by  no  means  indifferent  to  reputation.  On  such 
occasions,  therefore,  self-defence  I  consider  as  a  duty  which  I  owe  to 
the  world  at  large,  particularly  as  during  my  long  life  I  have  been 
generally  known. 

To  show  the  regard  which  I  felt  for  Merry,  I  will  introduce  a  few 
stanzas  from  a  poem  which  I  addressed  to  him,  in  order  to  attract  pub- 
lic attention  to  his  tragedy  of  "  Lorenzo,"  which  was  soon  after  repre- 
sented at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Covent  Garden.  After  noticing  in 
my  poem  many  of  his  productions,  and  praising  them  highly,  I  con- 
cluded with  the  following  stanzas  : 

Say,  dost  thou,  fondly  charmed  along 
By  Fancy's  wild  and  witching  song, 
With  moon-light  shadows  seek  repose, 

The  world  forgetting  and  its  woes  ? 

Does  sorrow  linger  o'er  thy  lyre, 
And  sadly  chill  the  conscious  wire  ? 
Does  love  the  pensive  hour  invade, 
And  absence  veil  the  darling  maid  ? 

Has  malice,  perfidy,  or  pride, 
Struck  deep  in  friendship's  bleeding  side  2 
Long  since  thy  piercing  eye  could  scan 
H  The  low  ingratitude  of  man."* 

Lo  !  Fame  her  fairest  wreath  assigns, 
While  Love  delighted  chants  thy  lines,  ] 
Oh  !  then  resume  thy  melting  song, 
And  charm  the  willing  world  along. 

Fortunately  for  my  reputation,  I  have  the  testimony  of  many  in 
my  favour,  as  I  may  subsequently  show,  and  among  others,  the  fol- 
lowing inscription  in  a  volume  entitled  "  The  Beauties  of  the  Anti- 
Jacobin,  or  Weekly  Examiner,"  a  work  instituted  by  the  late  Mr. 
Canning,  of  which  he  and  my  late  friend  Mr.  William  Gifford  were 
the  chief  writers,  and  the  latter  was  the  editor.  On  the  close  of 
"  The  Anti-Jacobin  Examiner,"  Mr.  John  Gifford,  the  magistrate, 
was  favoured  with  all  the  unprinted  manuscripts  intended  for  that 
work,  which  was  only  to  last  during  the  pending  session  of  parlia- 
ment, and  upon  those  manuscripts  Mr.  John  Gifford  founded  "  The 
Anti-Jacobin  Magazine,"  which  he  conducted  with  great  vigour  on 
true  constitutional  principles.  He,  however,  selected  and  published 
the  beauties  of  the  former  work,  and  the  volume  which  he  sent  to 
me  contained  the  following  inscription  in  his  own  handwriting. 

u  TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ. 

"  From  the  Editor,  with  the  best  wishes  that  the  sincerest  friendship 
can  suggest,  and  the  most  benevolent  of  hearts  excite." 


A  line  in  one  of  Merry's  poems. 


390 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  John  Gifford  was  the  author  of  "  A  History  of  France,"  some 
admirable  "  Letters  to  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale"  during  the  French 
revolution,  "  The  Life  of  Mr.  Pitt,"  in  six  volumes,  and  many  other 
political  works  of  great  merit.  In  "  The  Anti-Jacobin  Review," 
there  appeared  a  very  severe  note  upon  Dr.  Wolcot.  Not  knowing 
that  there  were  two  Mr.  Giffords,  and  confused  between  "  The 
Anti-Jacobin  Examiner"  and  "  The  Anti-Jacobin  Review,"  the  doctor 
thought  that  the  bitter  note  was  written  by  Mr.  William  Gifford,  and 
therefore  proceeded  with  great  haste  to  the  shop  of  Mr.  Wright,  the 
bookseller,  in  Piccadilly,  which  Mr.  W.  Gifford  was  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting.  The  doctor,  on  entering,  observing  Gifford,  whose 
person  he  had  seen  before,  said,  "  Are  you  Mr.  Gifford  V  and  with- 
out waiting  for  an  answer,  struck  him  immediately  on  the  head. 
Gifford  was  strong  in  the  arm,  wrested  the  weapon  from  him,  and 
struck  him  in  return  ;  a  scuffle  ensued,  and  the  doctor  lost  his  hat  and 
wig,  which  were  thrown  to  him  after  he  had  been  pushed  into  the 
street. 

I  passed  the  house  soon  after  this  fracas  had  happened,  and  saw 
some  drops  of  blood  upon  the  shop-window,  which  I  was  told  were 
the  effects  of  Mr.  Gifford's  blow.  The  doctor,  however,  though  he 
"  lost  some  claret,"  to  use  the  technical  term  of  the  Fancy,  received 
no  essential  injury.  This  violent  contest  induced  Mr.  Gifford  to 
write  his  severe  poem,  addressed  to  Peter  Pindar;  and  also  Dr. 
Alexander  Geddes,  a  poet  and  a  scholar,  to  publish  a  poem,  entitled 
"  The  Battle  of  the  Bards."  Dr.  Geddes  published  a  translation, 
rather  of  a  doggrel  kind,  of  Horace,  and  a  specimen  of  a  translation 
of  the  Bible,  in  which  he  introduced  some  modern  phrases,  such  as 
that  Jephtha's  daughter  was  a  11  fine  girl,"  and  others  of  an  equally 
familiar  description.  I  afterward  explained  to  Dr.  Wolcot  his  mis- 
take in  confounding  the  two  Giffords,  and  attacking  the  wrong  one. 
When  the  matter  was  understood  by  both  parties,  all  enmity  was  at 
an  end.  I  succeeded  in  making  them  send  amicable  inquiries  as  to 
the  health  of  each  other,  which  I  conveyed  with  pleasure,  as  I  did 
between  Mr.  Gifford  and  Mr.  Jerningham,  who  had  written  against 
each  other. 


CHAPTER  LIY. 

The  Lord  Chancellor  Yorke.  The  early  elevation  of  this 
eminent  lawyer  to  the  highest  legal  office  in  the  British  empire,  and 
the  loss  which  the  nation  suffered  by  his  death  soon  after  his  appoint- 
ment, gave  occasion  to  some  unfounded  surmises  and  malignant 
rumours,  which,  no  doubt,  derived  additional  strength  and  cur- 
rency from  an  implied  charge  on  his  majesty  George  the  Third, 
brought  by  Junius,  and  which  at  the  time  gained  a  degree  of  credit 
with  the  public  at  large.    Junius,  referring  to  these  rumours,  in  a 


LORD-CHANCELLOR  YORKE. 


391 


note  to  his  thirty-sixth  letter,  addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  seems 
to  admit  them  as  well-founded,  and  promises  to  give  the  particulars 
of  the  supposed  transaction,  but  he  did  not  keep  that  promise  ;  and 
as  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  Junius  wanted  information,  or  that  his 
vindictive  spirit  was  softened  by  time,  it  may  fairly  be  inferred  that 
he  thought  the  rumours  alluded  to  were  false  and  malevolent.  If  so, 
it  was  his  duty  to  acquit  the  injured  monarch  of  the  charge  which 
he  had  rashly  brought  against  him.  These  rumours  were,  however, 
revived  a  few  years  ago ;  and,  therefore,  the  sons  of  the  lamented 
lord-chancellor  came  forward,  under  the  natural  impulse  of  duty 
and  reverence,  to  vindicate  the  memory  of  their  honoured  father. 
As  the  subject  is  interesting,  and  may  give  occasion  to  erroneous 
statements,  or  mysterious  insinuations,  in  the  history  of  the  reign  of 
his  majesty  George  the  Third,  I  feel  it  a  duty  of  respect  to  the  memory 
of  that  revered  monarch,  as  well  as  of  esteem  for  Admiral  Sir  Joseph 
Yorke,  with  whom  I  have  for  many  years  had  the  pleasure  of  being 
acquainted,  to  extract  the  following  letter  from  the  transitory  columns 
of  a  public  journal  into  these  humble  pages. 

"  to  the  editor  of  1  the  morning  chronicle.' 
"  Sir, 

"  It  has  only  this  day  come  to  our  knowledge,  that  a  paragraph 
has  appeared  in  your  paper  of  Thursday  last,  part  of  which  is  stated 
to  have  been  taken  from  a  book  lately  published,  entitled  "  Parkes's 
History  of  the  Court  of  Chancery"  (which  neither  ourselves,  nor,  as 
we  believe,  any  of  our  friends  have  hitherto  seen),  purporting  to  re- 
late to  circumstances  supposed  to  have  attended  the  death  of  our 
father,  Mr.  Charles  Yorke,  in  January,  1770.  It  would  be  quite  in 
vain,  and  useless  in  these  days  to  complain  of  the  publication  of  anec- 
dotes of  such  a  nature  as  this,  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  sixty  years, 
calculated  in  the  highest  degree  to  wound  the  feelings  of  individuals 
and  of  whole  families,  without  any  attempt  being  made  to  ascertain 
the  truth  or  falsehood,  accuracy  or  inaccuracy,  of  the  facts  brought 
forward ;  and  still  less  of  the  insertion,  by  the  editors  of  the  daily 
papers,  of  articles  of  intelligence  borrowed  from  books  which  have 
passed  through  the  press.  We  have,  therefore,  no  complaint  to  make 
of  such  an  insertion  by  them,  as  far  as  they  copy  from  the  books ; 
the  authors  of  which  are,  of  course,  to  be  considered  as  responsible 
for  what  they  have  published.  We  think,  however,  that  we  have  a 
claim  on  the  justice  of  editors  of  the  public  papers,  as  having  now 
given  a  far  greater  degree  of  publicity  to  a  story  which  (but  for  its 
insertion  in  them)  might  have  remained  almost  unnoticed,  to  give  an 
equal  degree  of  publicity  to  this  our  formal  contradiction  of  it,  when 
we  state  that  the  paragraph  mentioned  is  a  most  false,  scandalous, 
and  malignant  calumny.  But  in  particular,  that  part  of  it  which  con- 
tains an  attack,  at  once  so  cruel  and  unmanly,  on  the  memory  of  our 
late  ever-to-be-lamented  and  honoured  mother,  is  false  and  malignant 
in  the  highest  degree.  The  lady  thus  libelled  died  a  few  years  ago, 
at  the  age  of  eighty,  respected  by  all  w'ho  knew  her.  Providentially, 


392 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


she  had  been  withdrawn  to  a  better  world  before  such  a  vile  and 
atrocious  calumny  appeared,  or  the  knowledge  of  it  must  have  killed 
her.  Providentially.,  many  still  exist  who  well  know  the  superior  ex- 
cellence of  her  character  and  principles ;  and  that  she  was  wholly 
incapable  of  contemplating,  even  in  idea,  the  possibility  of  such  an 
action  as  that  she  has  been  charged  with ;  who  also  know  the  fact, 
that  when,  after  the  fate  of  her  ever-regretted  husband,  she  was  ear- 
nestly solicited,  and  pressed  to  assent  to  the  completion  of  the  peer- 
age intended  for  him,  and  which  had  passed  through  all  the  forms, 
except  only  the  affixing  the  great  seal,  she  positively  refused  it,  and 
would  never  suffer  the  offer  to  be  repeated  to  her. 

"  London,  Sunday  evening,  "  ^*  ^  YoitKE. 

"May  11.  ^  J.  YORKE." 

The  Lord  Bishop  of  Peterborough.  It  is  with  no  slight  de- 
gree of  pleasure  that  I  include  this  venerable  prelate  among  the 
number  of  my  esteemed  friends  ;  his  character  is  so  highly  rated  for 
his  learned  theological  works,  that  he  may  be  considered  as  a  distin- 
guished pillar  of  the  established  church.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing him  about  the  year  1778,  when  I  was  introduced  to  him  by  his 
college  friend,  Joseph  Richardson,  so  well  known  in  the  literary  and 
political  circles  at  a  subsequent  period.  Another  college  friend  I 
was  introduced  to  at  the  same  time,  the  Rev.  Edward  Robson. 

Mr.  Herbert  Marsh,  the  present  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  was  then 
distinguished  for  his  pleasant  spirit  and  good-humour,  and  I  lost  sight 
of  him  for  many  years,  but  with  Joe  Richardson  and  Ned  Robson  I 
retained  an  intimacy  till  death  deprived  me  of  the  friendship  of  both. 
Mr.  Robson  possessed  literary  talents,  and  was  a  good  poet.  Before  I 
knew  him,  he  had  been  chaplain  to  a  nobleman  whose  name  I  do  not 
recollect ;  finding  that  the  daughter  of  this  nobleman  had  conceived 
a  partiality  for  him,  he  deemed  it  proper  to  resign  his  chaplaincy,  that 
he  might  not  be  thought  to  give  encouragement  to  the  lady's  favour- 
able sentiments.  When  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  curate  to  Dr. 
Markham,  the  rector  of  Whitechapel  church,  and  though  he  was 
upon  the  most  friendly  footing  with  the  doctor,  and  dined  with  him 
almost  every  day,  the  doctor  paid  him  the  respect  of  sending  a  formal 
invitation  every  morning,  which  perhaps  Mr.  Robson,  who  was  not 
without  a  sense  of  personal  dignity,  had  deemed  necessary. 

For  many  years,  till  I  first  entered  into  the  marriage  state,  in  the 
year  1788,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  breakfasting  every  Monday  morn- 
ing with  Mr.  Robson,  who  then  lived  in  Whitechapel,  and  I  in  Hatton 
Garden.  Some  days,  after  he  had  discharged  his  clerical  duties,  we 
passed  the  day  together,  dined  in  the  vicinity  of  Covent  Garden,  and 
closed  the  evening  at  one  of  the  theatres.  I  was  indebted  to  him  for 
much  amusement  and  instruction,  and  of  course  feel  a  sincere  respect 
for  his  memory.  During  this  time  Mr.  Robson  was  appointed  one 
of  the  magistrates  of  the  Tower-hamlets ;  and  I  have  heard  that  he 
was  as  strict  in  administering  justice  as  in  the  discharge  of  his  eccle- 
siastical duties.    He  had,  I  understood,  a  small  living  in  Nottingham- 


BISHOP  OF  PETERBOROUGH  W.  WORDSWORTH,  ESQ.  393 

shire.  He  followed  my  example  in  wedlock,  having  married  the 
daughter  of  a  respectable  tradesman  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  he  sur- 
vived his  lady,  who  had  been  abroad  and  had  qualified  herself  for 
the  situation  of  governess  in  a  private  family,  and  was  an  accomplished 
woman. 

I  once  took  Colonel  Frederick;  the  son  of  the  King  of  Corsica,  to 
visit  him,  and  Mr.  Robson  was  much  gratified  by  the  accounts  of 
places  abroad,  which  the  colonel  had  visited  at  a  former  period.  Mr. 
Robson  was  chaplain  to  the  Vintners'  Company,  and  I  once  passed  a 
festive  day  with  them  on  one  of  their  annual  celebrations. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Marsh.  He  had,  I  understood,  gone  abroad, 
where  he  acquired  the  German  language,  and  published  some  theo- 
logical and  political  works  in  that  language,  which  he  afterward 
translated  himself  into  English  and  published.  The  political  princi- 
ples which  he  inculcated  were  sound  and  constitutional,  and  his 
theological  doctrines,  by  all  accounts,  orthodox  and  profound.  A 
few  years  ago,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  renewing  my  acquaintance  with 
him,  after  he  had  obtained  his  present  episcopal  dignity,  and  found 
that  he  retained  all  the  pleasantry  and  gcod-humour  which  character- 
ized him  in  early  life,  without  any  abatement  of  that  decorum  which 
was  suitable  to  his  sacred  function. 

I  hope  his  lordship  will  forgive  me  if  I  here  introduce  two  anec- 
dotes which  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him  relate  at  his  own  table. 
Lord  Sandwich,  formerly  at  the  head  of  the  admiralty,  when  any 
application  was  made  to  him  to  subscribe  for  the  repairs  of  the  church, 
or  other  matters  in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  country-seat,  always  di- 
rected his  name  to  be  put  down  for  ten  guineas ;  but  as  his  lordship 
was  ten  years  in  arrear,  the  churchwardens  applied  to  him,  request- 
ing that  he  would  discharge  his  engagement.  Finding  that  they  really 
expected  payment,  he  laughingly  said,  "  What !  would  you  kill  your 
decoy-duck  ?"  but  perhaps,  after  having  had  his  joke,  he  fulfilled  their 
expectations. 

The  other  anecdote  related  to  the  same  noble  lord.  He  had  heard 
that  a  neighbouring  gentleman*  who  was  sometimes  his  guest,  and 
who  was  a  great  gourmand,  wore  a  waistcoat  laced  behind,  so  that 
when  he  had  eaten  to  a  certain  extent,  the  pressure  of  the  lace  in- 
duced him  to  check  his  appetite.  Lord  Sandwich  was  desirous  of 
seeing  the  back  of  the  waistcoat,  and  therefore,  when  the  glass  had 
circulated  freely,  proposed  a  loyal  toast,  signifying,  that  it  should  be 
honoured  by  every  man  with  his  coat  off.  The  shrewd  gourmand, 
aware  of  his  lordship's  design,  proposed  that  they  should  all  take  off 
their  waistcoats  to  do  honour  to  the  toast ;  and  as  the  proposition  was 
not  more  absurd  than  the  other,  they  assented,  and  the  man  contrived 
to  pull  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat  together,  and  huddled  them  so  as 
to  defeat  the  curiosity  of  his  lordship.  This  story,  though  trifling  in 
itself,  will  serve  at  least  to  show  what  follies  even  very  intelligent  men 
will  commit  in  Bacchanalian  excesses  ;  and  none  can  doubt  the  abili- 
ties of  Lord  Sandwich,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  his  morals. 

William  Wordsworth,  Esq.    With  the  merits  of  this  gentle- 


394 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIPE. 


man,  who  has  struck  out  a  line  of  original  and  natural  poetry,  which 
must  rank  his  name  very  high  among  the  bards  of  this  country,  I  was 
well  acquainted,  and  wished  to  know  personally  the  author  of  such 
interesting  compositions.  To  my  surprise,  conscious  of  my  own  un- 
importance, I  received  a  letter  from  him  many  years  ago,  accom- 
panied with  two  volumes  of  his  "  Lyrical  Ballads ;"  the  letter  im- 
ported a  desire  to  know  what  impression  his  poems,  written  by  an 
author  living  in  rural  retirement,  had  made  upon  a  man  living  in  the 
bustle  of  active  life.  It  was  not  a  little  gratifying  to  me  to  find  that 
I  was  known  at  all  to  a  poet  of  such  original  merit,  and  residing  at  so 
distant  a  place.  Not  having  immediately  an  opportunity  of  perusing 
the  volumes,  I  wrote  to  him  to  acknowledge  having  received  them, 
and  expressing  my  belief  that  I  should  very  soon  have  occasion  to 
thank  him  for  the  pleasure  which  they  had  afforded  me.  Very  soon 
after  I  took  up  the  volumes,  and  was  so  much  gratified  by  the  impres- 
sive simplicity  and  original  genius  which  characterized  the  whole, 
that  I  wrote  to  him  again,  to  testify  the  pleasure  which  they  had 
afforded  me.  In  his  answer,  he  expressed  his  satisfaction  with  the 
opinion  which  I  had  given  of  his  work,  and  after  a  little  farther  cor- 
respondence between  us,  I  heard  from  him  no  more. 

It  is  usual  for  the  royal  academicians  to  send  an  invitation  to  their 
patrons  and  friends,  to  view  the  annual  exhibition  a  day  or  two  before 
it  is  opened  to  the  public  ;  when  I  had  the  command  of  a  newspaper 
some  years  ago,  I  was  favoured  with  a  card,  particularly  from  my 
late  friend  Mr.  West,  the  president,  but  now  I  have  lost  all  interest 
of  that  kind.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  as  I  was  going  up  the  stairs 
of  the  academy,  I  overtook  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  a  gentleman, 
whom  he  introduced  to  me  as  Mr.  Wordsworth.  I  was  very  much 
gratified  in  seeing  him,  and  he  testified  similar  pleasure  in  seeing  me, 
insomuch  that  we  paid  more  attention  to  each  other  than  to  the 
pictures.  Sir  George  invited  me  to  dine  with  him,  and  to  meet  Mr. 
Wordsworth,  and  this  invitation  the  worthy  baronet  frequently  re- 
peated while  Mr.  Wordsworth  remained  in  town.  I  hardly  need 
add,  that  these  invitations  were  a  source  of  more  than  amusement,  as 
it  would  be  strange  indeed  if  I  had  not  profited  mentally  by  such  en- 
lightened society. 


CHAPTER  LV.  - 

The  Rev.  Charles  Este.  This  gentleman  was  not  only  the 
most  extraordinary  character  whom  I  ever  knew,  but,  perhaps,  the 
most  extraordinary  of  his  time.  He  was  educated  for  the  church, 
but  was  more  attached  to  the  stage ;  and  in  a  brief  biography  of  him- 
self, which  he  entitled  "  My  own  Life,"  he  states  that  he  had  actually 
ventured  on  the  stage,  but,  after  a  transient  experiment,  renounced  all 


REV.  CHARLES  ESTE. 


395 


theatrical  adventures,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  church.  But  though 
he  abandoned  the  stage,  his  partiality  for  the  theatrical  profession  con- 
tinued, and  he  became  connected  with  the  most  eminent  actors  of 
his  time,  particularly  Henderson,  who  was  perhaps  the  most  general 
performer  since  the  days  of  Garrick. 

Feeling  the  possession  of  literary  powers,  he  became,  as  was  sus- 
pected, a  correspondent  of  "  The  Public  Advertiser,"  during  the  time 
of  the  late  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall,  who  first  gave  the  letters  of 
Junius  to  the  world.  Mr.  Woodfall  was  a  well-educated  man,  a  firm 
friend  to  the  British  constitution,  and  to  the  proper  freedom  of  man- 
kind. There  was  a  blunt  sincerity  in  his  manner,  which  displayed 
the  independence  of  his  mind,  his  good  sense,  and  his  contempt  of  all 
affectation.  It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  Junius  knew  the  man- 
liness of  his  character,  and  was  induced  on  that  ground  to  select  him 
as  the  publisher  of  his  letters,  though  he  thought  proper  to  conceal 
his  name.  In  fact  there  was  not,  at  the  period  alluded  to,  any  con- 
ductor of  a  public  journal  whose  character  stood  so  conspicuously  and 
so  honourably  forward  as  that  of  Mr.  Henry  Sampson  Woodfall,  for 
his  brother,  Mr.  William  Woodfall,  did  not  come  forth  in  a  similar 
capacity  till  some  years  after  the  existence  of  "  The  Public  Adver- 
tiser." 

Mr.  Este,  like  Junius,  appeared  anonymously,  and  was  equally 
solicitous  to  conceal  his  name.  Whether  he  at  first  offered  himself 
as  a  writer  for  profit,  cannot  now  be  known ;  but  his  compositions, 
though  singular,  and  even  whimsical  in  style,  were  of  so  original  and 
of  so  amusing  a  description,  that  Mr.  Woodfall  found  it  expedient  to 
engage  him  as  an  established  correspondent. 

The  literary  contributions  of  Mr.  Este  were  chiefly  on  theatrical 
topics,  but  always  blended  with  miscellaneous  matters.    He  was  well 
acquainted  with  mankind,  and  an  acute  critic  on  theatrical  merit.  His 
learning  and  extensive  reading  enabled  him  to  supply  an  abundance 
of  illustrative  quotations,  classical  and  modern.    There  was  always 
point,  humour,  and  judgment  in  his  theatrical  decisions,  which  were 
strikingly  manifested,  notwithstanding  the  peculiarity  of  his  style,  that 
often  rendered  his  criticism  unintelligible  to  those  who  had  not  attended 
to  his  manner.    His  style  seemed  to  be  founded  on  that  of  Sterne  in 
his  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  consisting  of  odd  breaks,  with  lines  inter- 
spersed, and  whimsically  compounded  phrases,  strongly  studded  with 
quotations,  but  always  connected,  forcible,  and  shrewd,  in  the  opinion 
of  those  who  thought  proper  to  read  his  articles  with  attention.  His 
style  may  be  said  to  be  a  motley  mixture  of  passages  from  the  classics, 
from  Shakspeare,  from  Pope,  and  from  Doctor  Johnson,  mingled  in  a 
mass  with  great  native  vigour  and  acuteness.    His  intimacy  with 
Henderson  induced  him  to  be  a  warm  panegyrist  of  that  actor,  whose 
talents  fully  justified  his  literary  support. 

On  the  death  of  Henderson,  which  was  a  severe  loss  to  the  public, 
Mr.  Este  attached  himself  to  Mr.  John  Kemble,  whose  merits  he  then 
eulogized  in  "  The  Public  Advertiser"  with  equal  zeal,  and  a  cordial 
friendship  seemed  to  exist  between  them.   Before  the  death  of  Hen- 


396 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


derson,  however,  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Este  did  not  estimate  the 
talents  of  Mr.  Kemble  as  he  did  after  that  event ;  for  in  his  com- 
mendations of  Henderson,  before  he  knew  Mr.  Kemble,  there  were 
sometimes  in  his  strictures  allusions  to  the  comparative  formality  of 
Kemble's  manner,  which  roused  the  friendly  zeal  of  the  late  Mr. 
Francis  Twiss,  father  of  the  present  Mr.  Horace  Twiss,  to  take  up 
the  cause  of  Mr.  Kemble  ;  and  as  often  as  such  allusions  appeared 
from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Este  in  "  The  Public  Advertiser,"  they  received 
implied  answers  from  Mr.  Twiss,  in  the  "  Morning  Chronicle,"  then 
conducted  by  Mr.  William  Woodfall.  This  sort  of  bush-fighting 
continued  many  weeks ;  at  length,  to  the  regret  of  all  admirers  of 
theatrical  merit,  poor  Henderson  died;  Mr.  Este  then  became  known 
to  the  Kemble  family,  and  was  full  as  zealous  in  support  of  them, 
particularly  of  Mr.  Kemble,  as  he  had  previously  been  hostile. 

There  was  one  female  branch  of  the  Kemble  family  upon  whose 
acting  Mr.  Este,  as  supposed,  had  been  very  severe  in  his  public 
strictures ;  and  it  so  happened  that  the  lady  was  afterward  married 
to  Mr.  Twiss,  and  of  course  some  unpleasant  feelings  must  have  oc- 
curred to  Mr.  Este  when  he  was  first  introduced  to  that  lady.  To 
her  honour,  however,  it  should  be  mentioned,  that  far  from  resenting 
any  comments  on  her  acting,  though  they  had  been  remarkably 
severe,  Mr.  Este  became  one  of  her  favourite  friends. 

I  remember  a  circumstance  connected  with  this  subject,  which 
appears  to  me  to  be  worth  relating.  Mr.  Twiss,  though  he  entered 
into  a  covered  controversy  with  Mr.  Este  in  the  public  journals,  as  I 
have  mentioned,  was  so  great  an  admirer  of  the  writings  of  Mr.  Este, 
that  he  copied  all  the  criticisms  of  that  gentleman,  amounting  to  rather 
extensive  manuscripts,  and  containing  all  the  bitter  comments  on  the 
lady  in  question ;  but  when  the  marriage  was  agreed  on,  he  deter- 
mined to,  make  them  all  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  Hymen.  I  hap- 
pened to  call  on  him  when  he  was  employed  on  this  expiatory 
oblation,  and  he  read  to  me  every  sheet  before  he  threw  it  into  the 
fire,  expressing  at  once  his  admiration  of  the  force  of  the  writing, 
notwithstanding  its  peculiarity,  and  his  astonishment  at  the  unmerited 
severity  of  the  strictures. 

Mr.  Este  and  Mr.  Kemble  at  length  became  so  intimate,  that  the 
latter  was  induced  to  embark  in  a  public  paper  instituted  by  Mr. 
Este  ;  and  as  the  paper  did  not  succeed,  Mr.  Kemble  lost  about  three 
hundred  pounds  in  the  adventure.  Mr.  Este,  who  doubtless  lost  as 
much,  afterward,  in  conjunction  with  the  late  Captain  Topham, 
brought  forth  a  new  paper,  entitled  "  The  World,"  which,  on  account 
of  the  whimsical  style  of  the  writing,  and  the  high  tone  of  superiority 
which  it  affected,  characterizing  the  other  daily  papers  as  the  "low 
prints,"  for  some  time  attracted  attention,  and  seemed  to  promise 
eventual  success ;  but  as  Topham  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Mr.  Este,  and  uniformly  endeavoured  to  imitate  his  mode  of  writing, 
"  The  World"  had  all  its  columns  filled  by  the  same  strange  phrase- 
ology, and  the  public  in  general  looked  upon  it  as  a  fantastic  jargon, 
that  was  principally  ridiculous,  and  generally  unintelligible.  "The 


REV.  CHARLES  ESTE. 


397 


World,"  therefore,  gradually  declined,  and  at  length  was  wholly 
relinquished. 

If  the  style  of  Mr.  Este,  with  its  point,  humour,  and  oddity,  had 
only  formed  a  portion  of  *  The  World,"  and  the  rest  of  the  paper 
had  been  characterized  by  plain  language,  matters  of  fact,  early  in- 
telligence, humorous  effusions,  and  solid  reasoning,  it  is  not  improbable 
that  it  would  have  been  successful,  particularly  as  there  was  an 
imposing  influence  in  its  affected  contempt  of  the  other  daily  journals; 
for  I  believe  it  may  be  observed,  that  contempt,  whether  merited  or 
not,  generally  lowers  its  object. 

On  the  extinction  of  "  The  World,"  Mr.  Este  demanded  of  Top- 
ham  an  annuity  of  200Z.  as  an  equivalent  for  the  terms  on  which  at 
first  he  engaged  to  contribute  his  literary  efforts  in  support  of  the 
paper.  Topham  demurred,  alleging  that  those  terms  depended  on  its 
duration.  Without  resorting  to  law  to  support  his  claims,  Mr.  Este 
opened  a  literary  battery  against  Topham  in  a  paper,  since  defunct, 
entitled  "  The  Oracle."  Thus  money,  the  great  disorganizer  of  the 
most  intimate  connexions,  divided  these  friends,  who  seemed  to  be 
devoted  to  each  other.  Este  persevered  in  his  attacks,  to  which  he 
annexed  his  name ;  and  Topham,  unable  to  oppose  the  talents  which 
he  so  highly  revered,  agreed  to  grant  the  annuity,  which  Este  secured 
by  an  insurance  on  the  life  of  his  quondam  friend  and  admiring 
coadjutor. 

Such,  I  have  been  assured,  was  the  state  of  the  case  between  the 
parties,  who,  of  course,  never  were  united  again.  Topham  then  went 
to  his  estate  in  the  country,  and  devoted  himself  to  rural  sports  and 
retirement.  He  was  gentlemanly  in  his  manners  and  courteous  in 
his  disposition,  but  egregiously  vain,  and  anxious  for  notoriety,  even 
to  the  most  ridiculous  extravagance  in  his  dress,  which  rendered  him 
not  only  the  object  of  notice,  but  of  laughter  and  derision.  As  a 
proof  of  his  morbid  love  of  notoriety,  after  he  had  retired  for  some 
years,  an  allusion  to  his  short  coat,  and  exposed  limbs,  appeared  in 
one  of  the  public  journals.  One  of  his  friends,  who  knew  his  dispo- 
sition, cut  the  article  from  the  paper,  and  sent  it  to  him  in  his  retreat. 
What  would  most  probably  have  offended  any  other  man,  was  very 
gratifying  to  Topham,  who  wrote  to  his  friend  in  consequence,  ex- 
pressing his  wonder  that  he  was  not  totally  forgotten  in  London, 
thanking  his  friend  for  the  communication,  and  sending  him  a  present 
of  game  in  return  for  his  kindness. 

It  has  been  mentioned  that  Mr.  Este,  in  his  communications  with 
Mr.  Henry  Woodfall,  was  as  mysterious  as  Junius  ;  and  though  it  is 
probable  that  Mr.  Woodfall  guessed  who  was  his  correspondent,  it  is 
not  certain  that  he  positively  ever  knew  him.  The  pecuniary  recom- 
pense which  Mr.  Este  was  to  receive  was  to  be  conveyed  to  a  coffee- 
house, or  some  stated  place,  in  the  same  manner  as  Mr.  Woodfalfs 
private  correspondence  was  to  be  conveyed  to  Junius.  At  length  an 
attack  appeared  from  the  pen  of  the  anonymous  writer,  importing 
that  a  certain  nobleman  had  ruined  himself  by  gaming.  The  noble- 
man alluded  to  was  the  late  Lord  Loughborough,  but  whether  his 


398 


HECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


lordship's  name  was  mentioned  in  the  offensive  paragraph  I  do  not 
remember.  His  lordship  commenced  an  action  against  the  printer, 
who  was  cast  and  fined  a  hundred  pounds,  which  the  noble  lord 
would  not  accept,  but  desired  Mr.  Woodfall  to  assign  to  some  public 
charity.  There  was  then  a  suspension  of  the  intercourse  between 
the  anonymous  correspondent  and  Mr.  Woodfall.  But  after  the  lapse 
of  some  months,  perhaps  longer,  the  writer  addressed  Mr.  Woodfall, 
desiring  to  know  if  he  was  disposed  to  receive  his  communications 
again,  and  requesting  that  he  would  signify  his  intentions  by  a  simple 
No  or  Yes  in  his  next  paper.  Mr.  Woodfall,  smarting  under  the  con- 
sequences of  the  prosecution,  answered  "  No,"  in  the  largest  letters 
that  his  printing-office  contained.  This  circumstance,  which  should 
have  been  mentioned  in  the  due  course  of  the  narration,  probably 
induced  Mr.  Este,  having  tried  the  force  of  his  talents  in  the  field  of 
public  literature,  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  establishment  of  a 
public  journal  under  his  own  control. 

In  justice  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Este,  it  should  be  observed,  that 
he  did  not  invent  the  charge  against  the  nobleman  in  question,  as  it 
was  generally  reported  at  the  time,  and  believed  in  spite  of  the  legal 
decision. 

Mr.  Este  was  also  suspected  of  having  introduced,  in  the  paper 
called  "  The  World,"  some  defamatory  articles  on  the  memory  of 
Lord  Cowper,  which  was  the  subject  of  another  prosecution.  It 
was  thought  strange  that  reflections  on  the  memory  of  the  dead 
should  be  the  subject  of  legal  punishment,  but  it  was  contended  that 
defamation  of  the  dead  tended  to  excite  disturbance  among  their 
living  relations.  However,  by  the  advice  and  assistance  of  my  friend 
Mr.  Const,  the  counsel,  now  chairman  of  the  Middlesex  sessions, 
this  difficulty  was  also  surmounted ;  but  the  fear  of  such  future 
dangers  intimidated  both  Topham  and  Este,  and  not  only  weakened 
their  exertions  for  the  paper,  but  inclined  them  to  dispose  of  it,  or  to 
give  it  a  death-blow,  which  it  finally  received,  and  was  extinguished 
without  regret,  except  to  the  parties  who  were  concerned  in  it. 

Topham  was  intimately  connected  with  Peter  Andrews,  a  gentle- 
man who  had  acquired  a  large  fortune  by  his  contracts  with  govern- 
ment for  gunpowder.  He  became  a  member  of  parliament,  and  had 
some  reputation  for  literary  talents.  He  wrote  many  poetical  trifles 
for  "  The  World"  newspaper,  and  the  whole  of  the  poetical  contri- 
butions for  that  paper  were  published  in  two  volumes.  The  inti- 
macy between  Topham  and  Andrews  was  so  great,  that  they  were 
generally  invited  together  in  most  companies ;  and  it  was  reported 
that  they  met  every  morning  to  form  plans  for  distinguishing  them- 
selves by  witty  dialogues  and  mutual  bons  mots  in  the  evening.  But 
as  they  were  both  in  some  degree  deaf,  they  must  have  been  liable  to 
fall  into  miscarriages  that  would  have  betrayed  their  preconcerted 
impromptus.  It  is  therefore  hardly  probable  that  they  had  engaged 
in  so  hazardous  an  adventure. 

I  was  a  member  of  a  weekly  club  entitled  "Keep  the  Line," 
though  perhaps  no  club  could  more  trespass  upon  the  line  of  decorum, 


PETER  ANDREWS — REV.  CHARLES  ESTE. 


399 


which  its  name  implied,  with  respect  to  the  liberties  that  the 
members  took  in  rallying  each  other.  Andrews  was  a  member  of 
this  club,  and  being  of  an  irritable  disposition,  was  ill  qualified  to  bear 
the  satirical  and  sportive  sallies  of  his  associates.  It  was  well  said  of 
him  by  Mr.  Merry,  the  poet,  that  "  Andrews  considered  illness  less  as 
a  misfortune  than  as  an  insult."  He  was  the  author  of  several  epi- 
logues, purposely  calculated  for  the  talents  of  the  late  admirable  comic 
actor  Mr.  Lewis,  and  the  late  Mrs.  Mattocks.  These  compositions 
were  not  destitute  of  humour  and  point,  but  were  chiefly  ludicrous 
exaggerations  of  the  lowest  of  city  manners  among  inferior  trades- 
people, and  would  have  had  little  effect  if  not  delivered  by  those 
excellent  performers. 

Andrews  wrote  a  play,  but  the  drama  was  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  powers.  He  first  excited  public  attention  by  having  seduced 
Miss  Brown  from  the  stage,  when  she  was  rising  rapidly  into  fame  by 
the  beauty  of  her  person  and  her  musical  and  theatrical  talents.  But 
the  subsequent  conduct  of  this  lady  strongly  indicated  that  he  had  little 
reason  to  pride  himself  on  the  triumph  of  his  gallantry,  as  it  is  by  no- 
means  improbable  that  any  other  assailant,  with  an  equal  opportunity r 
would  have  been  equally  successful. 

The  fate  of  this  captivating  syren  was  pitiable.  She  went  to  India, 
and  returned  to  this  country  with  the  captain  of  the  Nancy  packet, 
to  whom  she  was  attached,  and  the  vessel,  with  the  whole  of  the  ship's 
company,  was  lost  among  the  rocks  of  Scilly. 

Andrews  very  early  in  life  began  to  assume  the  man  of  fashion. 
His  father  was  a  drysalter,  or  of  some  similar  business,  in  Watling- 
street ;  and  the  son,  after  assisting  his  father  in  the  business  of  the 
day,  used  to  sally  forth  in  the  evening  with  sword  and  bag  to  Rane- 
lagh,  or  some  other  public  place.  He  gradually  formed  higher  con- 
nexions, and  engaging  in  profitable  speculations,  soon  became  intimate 
with  the  profligate  Lord  Lyttelton.  They  were  both  superstitious, 
and  fond  of  relating  stories  of  ghosts,  of  which  Andrews  had  a  great 
collection,  and,  being  a  nervous  man,  he  seemed  to  place  implicit  con- 
fidence  in  the  most  extravagant  fictions.  Lyttelton  possessed  supe- 
rior talents,  but  appeared  to  be  equally  credulous. 

Andrews  had,  as  I  have  observed,  a  knack  of  writing  epilogues 
chiefly  suited  to  the  taste  of  the  galleries  of  a  theatre,  or  the  vulgar 
part  of  an  audience  wherever  seated.  When  he  had  finished  a  com- 
position of  this  kind,  and  received  the  approbation  of  the  author  of 
the  play  for  which  it  was  intended,  he  generally  asked  the  latter  why 
he  had  not  written  the  epilogue  himself ;  and  when  the  dramatist  de- 
clared his  want  of  such  ability,  Andrews  would  gradually  work  himself 
into  anger,  as  a  lion  lashes  itself  into  fury,  because  the  task  had  been 
thrown  upon  him.  He  was,  however,  hospitable,  kind,  and  good-hu- 
moured when  nothing  interfered  with  the  peculiarities  of  his  dispo- 
sition. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Este.  He  published  in  the  year  1795,  "  An  Ac- 
count of  his  Journey  in  the  year  1793,  through  Flanders,  Brabant, 
Germany,  and  Switzerland."    It  is  an  amusing  and  instructive  work* 

S  2 


400 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  shows  great  acuteness  and  observation,  as  well  as  industry.  It 
is  at  times  affected  in  style,  but  less  erratic  than  that  which  charac- 
terized his  contributions  to  the  public  press.  The  journey  was  under- 
taken for  the  laudable  purpose  of  finding  the  best  medical  school  for 
his  son,  by  whom  he  was  accompanied.  The  latter  gentleman  is  a 
surgeon  of  eminence  in  this  metropolis,  and  highly  esteemed  for  his 
personal  merits. 

Mr.  Este  in  this  work  states  that  as  Pavia  was  recommended  to 
him  as  a  good  medical  school,  he  was  willing  to  proceed  to  that  place  ; 
but  with  his  usual  peculiarity  of  style  he  observes,  that  he  "  could  not 
but  be  scared  by  the  powers  of  distance  and  of  doubt."  This  is  a 
strange  acknowledgment  of  the  fear  of  travelling,  as  he  afterward 
ventured  twice  to  the  West  Indies,  in  order  to  settle  the  concerns  of 
the  gentleman  who  married  his  daughter,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  amiable  of  women  in  the  estimation  of  those  who  had  the  pleasure 
of  knowing  her.    This  lady  died  in  the  prime  of  youth  and  beauty. 

Mr.  Este,  as  I  have  observed,  was  an  acute  and  sound  critic  on 
acting,  and  much  attached  to  the  last  race  of  performers,  particularly 
Oarrick  and  Henderson.  His  opinions  were  emphatic  and  abrupt. 
When  the  late  George  Cooke  was  a  popular  favourite,  I  asked  Mr. 
Este  if  he  liked  him.  He  answered  energetically,  "  God  forbid." 
And  when  I  asked  him  his  opinion  of  Mr.  Kean,  during  the  zenith  of 
his  fame,  his  answer  was,  "  He  has  not  an  element,"  not  appearing  to 
consider  the  spirit  that  frequently  marks  the  acting  of  that  performer 
as  of  "  the  right  savour." 

The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Este  was  at  the 
house  of  our  mutual  friend  Sir  William  Beechey,  where  he  was  all 
animation,  and  exerted  himself  so  much  to  entertain  us,  that,  as  Sir 
William  told  me,  he  felt  languid  and  indisposed  on  the  following  day, 
and  added  that  I  had  killed  him  by  my  admiration  and  encouragement 
of  his  humorous  sallies. 

Mr.  Este  was  one  of  the  readers  of  the  royal  chapel  at  Whitehall, 
and  in  my  opinion  he  delivered  the  sacred  service  with  most  impres- 
sive solemnity,  though  some  considered  his  manner  as  rather  too  the- 
atrical. This  notion,  however,  probably  arose  from  his  known  at- 
tachment to  dramatic  amusements,  and  his  connexion  with  theatrical 
performers.  Mr.  Este  told  me  that  he  remembered  Mrs.  Pritchard, 
and,  though  an  excellent  comic  actress,  she  was  inferior  to  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons  in  the  higher  province  of  tragedy. 

Such,  in  my  humble  estimation,  is  an  impartial  character  of  Mr. 
Este.  He  possessed  an  acute,  discerning,  and  decided  mind,  and  if 
he  had  been  trained  to  politics  rather  than  to  the  church,  would  have 
been  an  able  servant  of  government.  He  would  have  had  sagacity 
enough  to  discover  all  public  abuses,  and  firmness  enough  to  prevent 
their  continuance,  as  far  as  his  power  could  extend.  His  form  was 
of  the  middle  size  and  stature.  His  face  was  plain,  but  expressive  ; 
raid  I  heard  Mrs.  Siddons,  no  mean  judge  of  character  and  manners, 
once  say,  that  the  ease,  courtesy,  and  spirit  of  his  conversation  amply 
compensated  for  any  want  of  beauty  in  his  features.    He  was  firmly 


MAJOR  JAMES. 


401 


attached  to  the  British  constitution,  but  the  revolutionary  principles  of 
France,  during  the  period  of  their  ascendency,  seemed  to  have  ren- 
dered him  a  more  zealous  advocate  for  liberty  than  he  had  been  be- 
fore that  lamentable  event ;  yet,  on  the  late  king's  recovery,  nothing 
could  manifest  more  fervid,  ardent,  and  devoted  loyalty  than  his  wri- 
tings exhibited  in  the  earlier  pages  of"  The  World." 

As  a  proof,  however,  that  he  was  considered  a  friend  to  revolutionary 
principles,  the  late  Colonel  Bosville,  who  kept  an  open  table  for  revo- 
lutionary characters,  bequeathed  2000/.  to  Mr.  Este.  Colonel  Bos- 
ville at  first  kept  an  open  and  expensive  table  at  the  Piazza  Coffee- 
house, and  afterward  at  his  own  mansion.  His  guests  went  without 
invitation,  and  it  was  usual  among  them,  when  they  intended  to  dine 
at  the  Piazza,  or  at  the  colonel's  house,  to  tell  each  other  that  they 
dined  "  at  home."  The  colonel  must  have  been  very  rich,  as  well  as 
very  revolutionary,  to  support  so  hospitable  an  establishment.  He 
bequeathed,  I  believe,  the  same  sum  to  the  late  Major  James,  who  was 
one  of  the  officers  of  the  wagon-train,  and  was  a  favourite  agent  of 
the  late  Marquis  of  Hastings. 

Major  James,  whom  I  knew  in  very  early  life,  was  generally  styled 
Jacobin  James,  from  his  supposed  attachment  to  those  political  prin- 
ciples which  made  him  a  favourite  with  Colonel  Bosville.  It  is  said 
that  he  had  advanced  6000/.  in  the  service  of  the  Marquis  of  Hastings, 
which  his  widow,  with  a  large  family,  was  not  able  to  obtain,  not  for 
want  of  justice  in  the  marquis,  but  on  account  of  the  impoverished  state 
of  his  affairs. 

Major  James  was  the  author  or  compiler  of  a  military  dictionary 
in  two  volumes,  a  valuable  work,  of  which  he  also  published  an 
abridgement.  The  major  was  attached  to  poetry  as  well  as  to  poli- 
tics, and  published  two  volumes  of  the  former,  with  a  portrait  of  him- 
self, and  plates  illustrative  of  passages  in  his  works.  He  was  perpet- 
ually writing  impromptus,  and  like  Master  Matthew,  in  Ben  Jonson's 
play,  repeated  them  in  the  street  to  every  acquaintance  whom  he  met. 
After  the  first  salutation  he  was  sure  to  say  a  lady  asked  him  to  write 
on  such  a  subject,  or  that  some  lines  occurred  to  him  on  such  an  oc- 
casion. I  knew  him  for  upwards  of  thirty  years,  and  never  once  met 
him  without  being  favoured  with  a  recital  of  one  or  two  of  his  extem- 
porary effusions.  He  was  a  friendly,  good-humoured  man,  and  if  he 
had  devoted  his  pen  to  military  subjects  only,  would  doubtless  have 
suggested  many  hints  for  the  improvement  of  the  service.  He  was 
understood  to  be  a  good  Latin  and  French  scholar,  and  to  have  con- 
ducted himself  through  life  with  integrity  and  a  kind  disposition.  He 
was  very  intimate  with  Mr.  Combe,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in 
another  place,  and  purchased  at  a  large  price  a  fine  portrait  of  that  gen- 
tleman, which  was  painted  by  Mr.  Northcote. 

James  was  once  attacked  by  a  gentleman  whom  I  knew  under  the 
name  of  Count  Stuarton,  a  Frenchman,  and  devoted  to  the  Bourbon 
family.  Stuarton  wrote  a  publication  entitled  "  The  Revolutionary 
Plutarch,"  in  which  he  gave  a  severe  account  of  the  family  of  Bona- 
parte, and  of  most  of  the  persons  who  had  distinguished  themselves 


402 


RECORDS  OF    MY  LIFE. 


in  effecting  the  French  revolution,  and  by  assisting  in  the  elevation  of 
the  Corsican  emperor.  These  works  were  by  no  means  relied  on  as 
authentic  memorials,  though  they  had  an  extensive  sale. 

What  imputations  he  cast  upon  Major  James  I  cannot  now  remem- 
ber, but  they  were  of  so  strong  a  description  that  James  thought  it 
necessary  to  bring  an  action  against  the  author  for  the  vindication  of 
his  character,  as  he  was  in  the  military  service  of  his  majesty.  Fear- 
ing the  issue  of  the  trial,  the  count  left  this  country,  and  it  is  said  went 
to  America.  He  was  a  very  intelligent  and  agreeable  man,  and  so 
elegant  in  his  manners  as  to  justify  the  supposition  that  he  was  really 
a  foreign  nobleman. 

James  left  a  widow  with  several  children,  but  on  account  of  the 
failure  of  his  claim  on  the  Marquis  of  Hastings,  in  very  indifferent  cir- 
cumstances. He  often  expressed  a  wish  to  introduce  me  to  his  wife 
and  family,  but  never  did,  and  I  have  heard  that  she  married  again. 
Mr.  Chambers,  the  late  banker  in  Bond-street,  before  his  own  mis- 
fortunes overwhelmed  him,  advocated  her  claim  on  the  marquis  with 
great  zeal,  but  without  effect. 

No  man  in  London  had  a  more  extensive  acquaintance  than  James, 
who  was  an  agreeable  companion,  and  was  so  much  invited  abroad 
that  he  must  have  enjoyed  but  little  domestic  intercourse  with  his 
•family.  As  an  epigrammatist  he  sometimes  hit  upon  a  lucky  point, 
but  his  poems  have  no  originality,  pathos,  or  force,  and  have  barely 
the  merit  of  smooth  versification. 

Mr.  Este,  it  appears,  had  been  into  the  city  to  see  his  friend  Mr. 
Sharpe,  a  gentleman  well  known  in  the  literary  and  political  circles, 
and  who,  I  believe,  is  the  only  surviving  member  of  Dr.  Johnson's 
last  club.  He  has  generally  been  known  by  the  designation  of  "  Con- 
versation Sharpe,"  from  the  justness  of  his  observations,  and  the 
abundance  of  his  anecdotes.  He  was  also  a  member  of  the  "  Keep- 
the-line  club,"  which  I  have  already  mentioned.  Mr.  Este  returned 
home  somewhat  indisposed,  but  declined  any  refreshing  nourishment. 
He  was  soon  affected  by  a  violent  fever,  which  terminated  in  his 
death,  to  the  regret  of  all  who  understood  his  real  character,  and 
could  appreciate  his  talents  and  acquisitions. 

Mr.  Combe,  who  was  himself  powerful  in  conversation,  told  me 
that  he  enjoyed  no  conversation  more  than  that  of  Mr.  Este,  whose 
whimsical  and  humorous  flights  manifested  a  pregnant  and  luxuriant 
imagination,  as  well  as  varied  and  extensive  knowledge.  The  late 
Mr.  John  Kemble  was  also  a  great  admirer  of  the  original  powers 
and  conversational  talents  of  Mr.  Este,  particularly  as  he  was  an  able 
critic  on  theatrical  performances,  and  could  give  Mr.  Kemble  a  faith- 
ful and  vivid  description  of  those  actors  who  had  been  distinguished 
before  Mr.  Kemble  was  a  candidate  for  theatrical  honours. 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  Mr.  Barry  perform  in  the  decline  of 
his  life  ;  but  I  admired  his  venerable  remains,  and  was  surprised,  when 
I  once  asked  Mr.  Este's  opinion  of  that  actor,  to  hear  him  say  that 
he  was  "  a  poor  creature."  The  reason  of  this  opinion,  I  conceive, 
was  that  Mr.  Este,  who  looked  for  intellect  rather  than  for  sensibility, 


REV.  JOHN  WARNER. 


403 


found  the  latter  chiefly  in  Barry,  and  both  in  unrivalled  union  in  Gar- 
rick.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  that  Barry  was  famous  in 
Othello,  which  Garrick  relinquished  ;  and  that  he  maintained  so  suc- 
cessful a  contention  with  Garrick  in  Romeo,  that  the  public  judgment 
seemed  to  be  undecided  as  to  the  superiority  of  their  respective  per- 
formances. 

The  Rev.  John  Warner,  D.D.  A  person  more  generally  known 
than  this  gentleman  by  various  ranks,  has  never  fallen  within  my  notice. 
From  the  gayety  of  his  disposition,  and,  perhaps,  from  the  freedom 
of  his  conduct,  he  was  commonly  styled  Jack  Warner.  He  was  the 
son  of  Ferdinando  Warner,  well  known  at  the  time  for  a  publication 
on  the  gout.  The  subject  of  my  present  attention  was  a  very  popu- 
lar preacher  at  Tavistock  Chapel,  in  Broad-court,  Drury-lane.  He 
was  afterward  chaplain  to  Lord  Gower,  now  Marquis  of  Stafford, 
when  ambassador  to  France,  just  before  the  first  revolution  broke 
out  in  that  country.  His  lordship,  struck  with  horror  at  the  dreadful 
excesses  of  the  people,  and  finding  that  there  was  an  end  of  all 
legitimate  governmeut  in  that  country,  took  an  early  opportunity  of 
returning  to  England.  Dr.  Warner  was  favourable  to  the  principles 
on  which  the  French  revolution  was  founded,  but  abhorred  the  san- 
guinary manner  in  which  they  were  carried  into  effect. 

No  man  knew  the  world  better  than  Dr.  Warner,  and  few  equalled 
him  in  companionable  gayety.  And  here  I  can  give  a  striking  proof  of 
that  ascendency  which  Mr.  David  Williams  acquired  over  his  argu- 
mentative opponents  in  company,  by  the  negligent  manner  in  which 
he  passed  over  their  opinions,  and  avoided  giving  them  a  direct 
answer. 

I  dined  with  Mr.  Merry,  the  poet,  when  Mr.  David  Williams,  Dr. 
Warner,  and,  as  far  as  I  recollect,  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  were  of 
the  party.  The  doctor  spoke  warmly  in  favour  of  the  revolutionary 
principles  of  the  French  demagogues,  chiefly  directing  his  discourse 
to  David  Williams,  who  listened  with  a  sort  of  affable  contempt, 
which  absolutely  cowed  the  doctor,  who  soon  retired,  though  he  was 
remarkable  for  the  spirit,  humour,  and  knowledge  by  which  he  at 
all  times  appeared  to  lead  the  conversation.  When  he  had  retired, 
David  Williams,  with  the  same  sort  of  contemptuous  negligence,  said, 
f  That's  an  odd  little  man,"  though  the  doctor  was  nearly  as  large  as 
himself,  and  on  any  other  occasion  would  have  been  more  than  a 
match  for  him  in  colloquial  powers. 

I  once  asked  the  doctor  what  was  his  manner  of  preaching  by 
which  he  had  acquired  so  much  popularity.  "  Why,"  said  he,  u  I 
used  to  take  two  oratorical  boxes  with  me  into  the  pulpit,  one  filled, 
with  the  virtues,  and  the  other  with  the  vices,  and  avoided  all  diy  doc- 
trines. When  I  endeavoured  to  aliure  the  audience  to  goodness,  I 
took  a  virtue  out  of  my  box,  and  exhibited  it  in  the  most  glowing 
colours.  When  I  attempted  to  deter  them  from  evil  courses,  I  took 
a  vice  out  of  the  other  box,  and  represented  its  odious  deformities 
with  the  most  terrific  energy,  by  which  means  I  kept  my  congrega- 


404 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


tion  awake,  which  probably  would  not  have  been  the  case  if  I  had 
entered  into  formal  reasoning  and  theological  discussion. 

Ludicrous  as  this  description  of  himself  as  a  preacher  was,  it  illus- 
trates his  manner,  and  accounts  for  his  eminence  among  the  general 
order  of  people.  He  once  accompanied  the  late  facetious  George 
Selwyn  on  a  mission  to  Florence,  as  I  understood,  to  the  mother  of 
the  late  Earl  of  Carlisle,  a  lady  of  a  very  whimsical  character  ;  and 
the  letters  which  he  wrote  describing  the  events  of  his  journey  were 
highly  diverting,  but  were  somewhat  too  free  in  their  nature.  They 
were  addressed  to  the  late  Mr.  Penneck,  with  whom  I  dined  tete-a- 
tete.  After  dinner  he  read  them  to  me,  and  successively  committed 
them  to  the  flames. 

Dr.  Warner  was  a  good-looking  man.  but  rather  negligent  in  his 
person,  and  used  to  walk  in  the  streets  without  gloves.  I  have  men- 
tioned him  in  the  article  respecting  Mr.  Charles  Townley  as  one  of 
the  party  who  deliberated  on  the  conscience  of  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest,  and  sanctioned  his  acceptance  of  a  Protestant  benefice  in  the 
gift  of  that  gentleman.  I  never  heard  when  or  where  Dr.  Warner 
died,  and  this  obscure  decease  is  extraordinary,  considering  that  he 
was  so  generally  known  to  various  classes  of  society,  and  so  courted 
for  his  companionable  qualities.  He  was  considered  as  a  good  Greek, 
Latin,  and  French  scholar. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

John  Nicholls,  Esq.  Above  thirty  years  have  passed  since  I  was 
first  introduced  to  this  gentleman  at  the  apartments  of  my  old  friend, 
the  Rev.  Richard  Penneck,  and  very  many  years  elapsed  before  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  being  again  known  to  him.  When  I  was  first  intro- 
duced to  him,  I  was  struck  by  the  softness  of  his  voice,  the  suavity  of 
his  manners,  and  the  extent,  variety,  and  profundity  of  his  knowledge, 
so  far  as  I  could  presume  to  judge  on  so  casual  and  brief  an  interview  ; 
and  I  confess  I  was  much  surprised  at  the  warmth  with  which  he 
expressed  his  sentiments  when  he  became  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  But  when  I  read  his  work,  entitled  "  Recollections  and 
Reflections  on  Public  Affairs  during  the  reign  of  his  late  majesty 
George  the  Third,"  my  surprise  gave  way  to  my  conviction  of  his 
genuine  public  spirit  and  attachment  to  the  British  constitution, 
which  he  seemed  anxious  to  see  retained  in  its  full  purity.  His  work 
appears  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  soundest  political  productions  that 
have  appeared  in  my  time. 

I  have  before  said,  that  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  much  of  a  politician  ; 
but  my  reading  has  been  extensive,  and  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
conversing  with  several  of  the  most  enlightened  characters  of  my 
time.    Considering  the  work  of  Mr.  Nicholls  as  what  ought  to  be  the 


JOHN  NICHOLLS,  ESQ. 


405 


wde  mecum  of  every  lover  of  his  country,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of 
referring  to  some  passages  in  it,  though  I  may  be  accused  of  presump- 
tion in  venturing  to  form  an  estimate  of  so  masterly  a  composition, 
and  sometimes  to  differ  in  opinion  with  the  learned,  sagacious,  and 
patriotic  author. 

Mr.  Nicholls  has  traced  with  great  judgment  the  principal  and  se- 
condary causes  of  the  French  revolution,  and  considers  as  one  of  the 
chief  of  them  the  distinction  between  the  noblesse  and  the  bour- 
geoisie :  and  when  we  reflecton  the  profligacy, extravagance, and  arro- 
gance of  the^  former,  it  is  rather  a  matter  of  wonder  that  the  latter 
should  have  submitted  to  them  so  long.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  for  their 
own  sakes,  that  the  noblesse  in  all  countries  will  take  warning  from 
the  fatal  history  of  :he  French  revolution. 

Mr.  Nicholls  does  not  approve  of  triennial  parliaments,  and  gives 
good  reasons.  Mr.  Burke  was  no  favourite  with  Mr.  Nicholls,  who, 
of  course,  entertained  a  high  opinion  of  his  abilities  and  knowledge, 
but  not  of  his  principles  ;  and  from  what  I  saw  and  heard  of  Mr. 
Burke,  I  entirely  concur  with  Mr.  Nicholls.  Mr.  Burke  was  violent 
and  vulgar. 

Mr.  Nicholls  says,  that  "  On  one  occasion  he  spoke  of  the  Earl  of 
Shelburne  in  terms  so  coarse  and  unmeasured  as  to  preclude  all  pos- 
sibility of  reconciliation."  This  was  exactly  the  style  of  a  vulgar  up- 
start, which  character  he  fully  manifested  in  his  treatment  of  Mr. 
Hastings  in  the  House  of  Lords,  as  I  have  mentioned  in  another  place. 

Mr.  Nicholls  had  previously  mentioned  the  "  violence  and  arro- 
gance" of  Burke,  even  to  his  great  patron  Lord  Rockingham.  I 
presume  to  differ  with  him,  however,  respecting  the  character  of  Lord 
Thurlow,  of  whom  he  says,  that  "  trimming  was  not  congenial  to  his 
character."  But  to  my  certain  knowledge,  during  the  king's  (George 
the  Third)  illness  in  1788-9,  though  he  appeared  to  be  acting  with 
government  during  that  melancholy  period,  he  used  secretly  to  visit 
Carlton  House,  where  he  several  times  met  Mr.  Sheridan  ;  and  as 
soon  as  he  found  that  the  king  was  recovering,  he  made  that  memo- 
rable speech  in  the  House  of  Lords,  emphatically  exclaiming,  that 
when  he  forgot  his  sovereign,  he  hoped  his  God  might  forget  him. 

Lord  Thurlow  was  certainly  in  the  "  heart  of  the  mystery"  of  the 
opposition  party,  which  he  deserted  without  the  least  ceremony  when 
there  appeared  gratifying  signs  of  his  majesty's  restoration.  As  a 
strong  presumption  also  that  Lord  Thurlow  secretly  consulted  with 
Mr.  Sheridan  during  his  majesty's  illness,  and  when  there  was  little 
hope  of  his  recovery,  Mr.  Sheridan  had  drawn  up  the  outlines  of  a 
prospectus,  submitted,  no  doubt,  to  his  lordship,  for  changing  the  pol- 
itics of  <;  The  Morning  Post,"  then  the  chief  ministerial  paper,  which 
had  been  recently  purchased  by  the  party.  I  had  the  sketch  of  this 
prospectus  in  Mr.  Sheridan's  own  handwriting,  which  may  still  be 
among  my  papers. 

When  the  opposition  leaders,  at  a  private  meeting  on  the  subject 
of  the  first  Regency  bill,  expressed  an  apprehension  that  they  should 

'S3 


406 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE* 


find  a  powerful  adversary  in  Lord  Thurlow,  Charles  Fox  observed, 
that  they  had  often  opposed  him  with  success  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  conquer  them  in  the 
Lords;  adding,  from  the  old  ballad  : 

"  I  trust  there  arc  within  this  land 
•t  .  Five  hundred  men  as  good  as  he." 

I  presume  also  to  differ  with  Mr.  Nicholls  in  his  not  very  favour^ 
a*ble  opinion  of  Mr.  Pitt,  whom  he  blames  for  having  been  overborne 
against  his  better  judgment  to  engage  in  a  war  against  French  prin- 
ciples. Mr.  Pitt  was  too  disinterested  in  his  character  to  be  influ- 
enced by  a  love  of  place,  except  from  a  desire  to  serve  his  country ;  and 
the  firmness  of  his  mind  was  not  likely  to  agree  to  any  measure  ex- 
cept upon  conviction.  Why  may  it  not  be  supposed  that  Mr.  Pitt 
was  alarmed  at  those  revolutionary  principles  which  overthrew  the 
government  of  France,  and  threatened  the  destruction  of  every 
throne  in  Europe  1  Mr.  Pitt,  to  use  his  own  expression,  acted  accord- 
ing to  "  existing  circumstances," — an  accordance  that  might  be  true 
policy  :  for  who  can  pretend  to  foretell  the  consequences  of  any 
measure  1  And  Mr.  Pitt  might  think,  that  to  join  in  an  opposition 
to  French  principles  abroad,  was  one  of  the  best  means  to  secure  the 
government  of  this  country.  Besides,  at  that  period,  there  were 
revolutionary  spirits  at  home,  who,  if  they  could  have  destroyed,  the 
throne,  would  probably  have  proceeded  to  all  the  bloody  horrors  of 
the  French  revolution. 

I  venture  also  to  differ  with  Mr.  Nicholls  in  his  estimate  of  the 
character  of  his  late  majesty  George  the  Third.  That  monarch  was 
of  a  peaceable  and  quiet  disposition,  highly  amiable  in  private  life, 
benevolent,  and  a  friend  to  the  arts.  His  reign  was  too  much  dis- 
turbed by  the  intrigues  and  violence  of  party  :  and  who  can  say,  that 
to  preserve  national  tranquillity,  he  did  not  at  times  yield  to  the  coun- 
sels of  his  ministers,  contrary  to  his  better  judgment  ?  His  majesty 
was  a  zealous  friend  to  literature,  and  to  those  arts  which  embellish 
and  dignify  the  country,  and  are  honourable  to  the  powers  of  the 
human  mind. 

Before  I  take  leave  of  Mr.  Nicholls's  valuable  work,  I  ought  to 
apologize  for  venturing  at  all  to  offer  my  humble  remarks  on  what 
appears  to  me  to  be  the  result  of  deep  and  extensive  historical  know- 
ledge,  political  sagacity,  enlarged  views,  and  sincere  devotion  to  the 
genuine  principles  of  the  constitution,  and  which,  while  it  supports 
the  rights  and  dignity  of  the  throne,  equally  tends  to  protect  and 
secure  the  privileges  and  safety  of  the  people. 

Mr.  Nicholls,  in  his  work,  speaks  favourably  of  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole  ;  and  in  a  private  conversation,  in  which  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  his  opinions  more  at  large  as  to  the  character  of  Sir  Robert, 
he  said,  that  it  was  his  chief  and  constant  object  to  secure  the  House 
of  Brunswick  on  the  throne,  and  to  preclude  all  possibility  of  the 
return  of  the  Stuarts.    Mr.  Nicholls  took  no  notice  of  the  enormous 


JOHN  NICHOLLS,  ESQ. — MR.  MATTHEWS. 


system  of  bribery  by  which  he  was  accused  of  supporting  his  admin- 
istration ;  conceiving,  I  suppose,  that  Sir  Robert,  at  that  critical  pe- 
riod, when  there  was  a  strong  spirit  of  Jacobitism  prevalent  in  a  great 
body  of  friends  to  the  Stuart  line,  thought,  as  selfishness  is  the  great 
principle  of  human  action,  bribery  was  likely  to  be  the  most  powerful 
antidote  to  the  political  poison,  and  consequently  the  best  means  to 
remove  all  danger  from  the  Brunswick  family. 

Here  I  may  introduce  an  anecdote  which  I  learned  from  my  friend 
Dr.  Monsey,  who  knew  the  fact.  A  public  dinner  was  held  at  a  tav- 
ern in  Yarmouth  during  the  reign  of  George  the  First.  The  com- 
pany almost  entirely  consisted  of  friends  to  the  Stuart  family.  The 
king's  health,  without  specifying  the  name  of  George,  was  drunk  in 
so  mysterious  a  manner  as  to  alarm  a  sturdy  old  farmer,  who  was 
strongly  attached  to  the  new  family  on-the  throne  :  therefore,  when 
it  came  to  his  turn  to  pass  the  toast,  he  said  : — "  Gentlemen,  the  pres- 
ent toast  has  been  given  in  so  enigmatical  a  way  that  1  do  not  un- 
derstand it ;  therefore,  to  put  an  end  to  all  doubts  and  mysteries, 
here's  King  George."  When  the  next  man  in  succession  was  to 
drink  the  toast,  he  said  : — «  Well,  then,  here's  the  king  that  God 
loves  best."  "  Hold  !  hold  !"said  the  loyal  farmer,  interrupting  him, 
Ct  that's  not  King  George  !"  A  triumphant  laugh  of  the  Jacobite 
party  followed,  of  course,  and  this  simple  mistake  covered  the  loyal 
farmer  with  confusion. 

My  father  was  a  member  of  an  evening  club,  held  at  a  tavern  in 
Cross-street,  Hatton  Garden,  which  was  frequented  by  the  chief  in- 
habitants of  that  neighbourhood,  among  whom  was  Dr.  Crawford, 
who  kept  a  respectable  academy  in  that  street.  Mr.  Munden  the 
actor,  and  myself,  were  among  his  scholars.  I  did  not  recollect  Mr. 
Munden,  but  I  believe  he  recollected  me  ;  and  as  he  was  a  respect- 
able member  of  society,  as  well  as  an  excellent  actor,  1  was  glad  to 
renew  our  intercourse  when  he  became  one  of  the  chief  comic  props 
of  the  London  stage. 

At  the  club  above  mentioned,  a  Mr.  Matthews,  an  eminent  dancing- 
master,  was  among  the  members.  What  Churchill  says  of  Davies 
the  actor,  might,  according  to  report,  be  said  of  the  dancing-master: 

That  Matthews  had  a  very  pretty  wife. 

Matthews  had  become  acquainted  with  a  Mr.  Sterne,  a  German,  and 
a  scholar.  He  was  an  usher  for  the  foreign  department  of  Dr. 
Crawford's  academy.  As  he  was  but  in  indifferent  circumstances, 
Matthews  invited  him  to  reside  in  his  house,  in  Brook-street,  Holborn. 
The  beauty  of  Mrs.  Matthews  unhappily  captivated  the  sensitive  Ger- 
man, insomuch  that  the  friends  of  Matthews  expressed  their  surprise 
that  so  young  and  good-looking  a  man  of  talents  should  be  received 
as  a  resident  in  his  house.  Matthews  became  alarmed,  and  by  some 
alteration  in  his  conduct  towards  Sterne,  excited  strong  suspicions  in 
the  latter.  It  unfortunately  happened,  that  one  of  the  children  of 
Matthews,  unable  to  eat  the  whole  of  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter,  had 


40S 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


left  the  remainder  on  the  table  in  the  room  assigned  to  Sterne,  who 
considered  it  as  a  studied  insult  to  his  poverty  on  the  part  of  Mat- 
thews, and  determined  on  revenge,  not  merely  on  Matthews,  but  on 
those  whom  he  suspected  of  having  excited  his  jealousy,  and  conse- 
quently of  having  obliged  him  to  quit  the  house.  He,  therefore,  with 
a  concealed  brace  of  pistols,  went  to  the  club  as  usual ;  and  soon 
after  Matthews  appeared,  he  drew  forth  his  pistols,  with  one  shot 
Matthews  dead,  and  with  the  other  attempted  to  destroy  himself,  but 
was  prevented.  He  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey,  found  guilty,  and 
sentenced  to  death.  Dr.  Crawford,  and  I  believe  other  friends  of 
Sterne,  endeavoured  to  save  his  life  on  the  plea  of  insanity ;  but  in 
vain. 

My  father,  from  motives  of  humanity,  visited  him  in  Newgate,  and 
Sterne  told  him,  that  as  he  had  suspected  him  to  be  one  of  the  chief 
advisers  of  Matthews,  and  to  have  excited  his  jealousy,  he  had  deter- 
mined to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  him.  He  added,  that  he  went  for 
that  purpose  to  Dobney's  Bowling-green,  then  a  popular  place,  at  a 
part  of  Islington  now  cailed  Pentonville,  which  I  well  remember  ; 
that  he  was  going  to  shoot  my  father,  but  that  some  person  accident- 
ally joined  in  conversation  with  him,  and  he  was  afraid  of  destroying 
an  innocent  man. 

Sterne  did  not  deny  his  attachment  to  Mrs.  Matthews,  and  lamented 
his  unhappy  passion,  but  declared  that  he  had  no  dishonourable  in- 
tention. He  took  my  father  by  the  hand,  expressed  his  regret  at  his 
suspicions,  which  my  father  assured  him  were  wholly  unfounded,  as 
he  had  not  officiously  interfered  on  the  occasion.  Sterne  then  sub- 
mitted to  his  fate  with  firmness.  What  became  of  Mrs.  Matthews  I 
never  heard  ;  but  it  is  probable  that,  recommended  by  beauty  and 
misfortune,  she  did  not  want  friends. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  be  accused  of  levity,  when,  to  relieve  the  im- 
pression of  this  melancholy  story,  I  mention,  that  Mr.  Foot  (an 
apothecary  in  Hatton  Garden,  and  the  uncle  of  my  late  friend  Jesse 
Foot,  the  eminent  surgeon,  who  was  one  or  the  members  of  the 
club),  on  one  night,  when  the  subject  was  Dutch  affairs,  suddenly 
exclaimed  :  "  Let  me  see,  who  is  now  the  King  of  Holland  ?"  A 
general  laugh  prevailed  in  the  room,  and  poor  Foot  was  never  after- 
ward mentioned  except  by  the  title  of  the  King  of  Holland. 

Dr.  Monsey  told  me  that  he  was  once  in  company  with  another 
physician  and  an  eminent  farrier.  The  physician  stated,  that  among 
the  difficulties  of  his  profession  was  that  of  discovering  the  maladies 
of  children,  as  they  could  not  explain  the  symptoms  of  their  dis- 
orders. "  Well,"  said  the  farrier,  "  your  difficulties  are  not  greater 
than  mine,  for  my  patients,  the  horses,  are  equally  unable  to  explain 
their  complaints."  "Ah!"  rejoined  the  physician,  "my  brother 
doctor  must  conquer  me>  as  he  has  brought  his  cavalry  against  my 
infantry." 

The  late  William  Clay,  Esq.  I  became  acquainted  with  this 
gentleman,  an  eminent  and  wealthy  merchant,  at  the  hospitable  table 


WM.  CLAY,  ESQ. — SINGULAR  EVENT  IN  HYDE  PARK. 


409 


of  my  old  and  esteemed  friend  Francis  Const,  Esq.,  where  I  heard 
him  relate  the  following-  story,  which  he  vouched  as  a  fact  within  his 
own  knowledge. 

A  gentleman  was  one  morning  passing  through  Fenchurch-street, 
where  he  saw  a  young  man  in  livery,  with  a  pitcher  in  his  hand, 
going  for  water  to  a  neighbouring  pump.  The  likeness  of  this  young 
man  to  a  departed  friend  induced  him  to  stop  him  and  ask  his  name. 
The  name  being  the  same  as  that  of  his  deceased  friend,  confirmed 
him  in  the  suspicion  that  the  young  man  was  the  son  of  that  friend. 
He  knew  of  the  existence  of  the  young  man,  but  knew  not  what 
had  become  of  him.    Upon  inquiry,  the  young  man  told  him  he  was 

servant  to  Mr.  ,  an  eminent  wholesale  tradesman  in  that  street, 

who  was  very  kind  to  him,  had  encouraged  his  addresses  to  the 
cook-maid,  and,  on  their  marriage,  had  promised  to  establish  them 
in  a  public-house.  It  appeared  that  this  tradesman  was  executor  to 
the  father  of  this  young  man,  and  therefore  the  gentleman  who  had 
thus  accidentally  met  him  desired  that  he  would  obtain  leave  of  his 
master  to  be  absent  for  half  an  hour  next  day,  and  then  meet  the 
gentleman  at  the  same  place.  In  the  mean  time,  the  gentleman  who 
took  so  kind  an  interest  in  the  son  investigated  the  property  which 
his  father  had  left,  and  found  that,  to  the  extent  of  40,000/.,  it  had 
been  bequeathed  to  the  son,  whom  the  executor  had  kept  in  servi- 
tude, suppressing  the  will ;  and  by  promoting  his  marriage  and  set- 
tling him  in  an  humble  condition,  with  which  he  would  be  probably 
contented,  not  knowing  his  rights,  hoped  to  keep  him  in  obscurity  and 
himself  possess  the  inheritance.  Mr.  Clay  told  me  the  name  of  the 
perfidious  executor,  who,  on  being  applied  to  with  a  proper  legal 
authority,  was  thunderstruck,  and  made  no  opposition  to  the  claims 
of  the  young  man  ;  and  never  after  could  encounter  the  gaze  of 
those  who  visited  him  on  business,  but  constantly  bent  his  eyes  upon 
his  account-book,  and  in  that  manner  conversed  with  them. 

I  had  forgotten  this  extraordinary  story  ;  and  therefore,  on  meet- 
ing Mr.  Clay  at  Mr.  Const's,  desired  him  to  repeat  it.  No  doubt  vil- 
lanous  designs  of  the  same  kind  as  that  which  was  so  happily  frus- 
trated on  this  occasion,  have  too  often  been  successful ;  but  as  this 
fact  was  so  well  ascertained,  it  was  proper  to  introduce  it,  as  it  may 
operate  as  a  warning  to  those  who  have  property  to  leave  to  be 
cautious  in  the  choice  of  their  executors. 

I  may  here  properly  introduce  another  singular  event  which 
divines  may  reasonably  assign  to  an  interposition  of  Providence.  I 
derived  it  from  a  lady  who  knew  the  gentleman,  and  on  whose 
veracity  I  can  rely.  A  gentleman,  now  dead,  who  was  connected 
with  Kensington  Palace,  had  dined  in  Piccadilly,  near  to  Hyde  Park, 
and  on  going  home  late  at  night,  thought  that  he  might  safely  pro- 
ceed through  Hyde  Park  and  Kensington  Gardens.  When  he  ap- 
proached the  bridge  in  Hyde  Park,  two  men,  who  were  leaning  over 
each  side  of  the  bridge,  left  their  station,  joined  each  other  on  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  approached  towards  him.    It  was  at  the 


410 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFfi. 


time  when,  within  my  remembrance,  it  was  the  fashion  with  gentle- 
men to  wear  swords  in  the  street.  He  drew  his  sword,  and  desired 
that  they  would  open  a  passage  for  him.  They,  however,  continued 
to  advance,  and  as  he  did  not  know  how  they  might  be  armed,  he 
thought  proper  to  retreat,  and  being  acquainted  with  a  gentleman 
who  lived  at  Knightsbridge,  he  directed  his  course  thither,  and 
climbed  to  the  top  of  his  friend's  wall,  intending  to  apprize  the 
family.  When  he  attempted  to  descend  into  the  yard,  a  ferocious 
dog  barked  so  violently  that  he  kept  his  post  some  time,  and  then 
returned4  into  the  park,  intending  to  pursue  his  way,  thinking  that 
the  men  had  left  the  place  ;  but  they  remained  on  the  spot,  and  ad- 
vanced towards  him  as  before.  He  retired,  crossed  the  park,  and 
entered  the  gardens  at  the  north-east  door.  As  soon  as  he  passed 
the  pond,  he  heard  a  splash  as  if  somebody  had  thrown  himself 
into  the  water.  For  a  moment  he  suspected  that  this  might  be  a 
trick  of  some  confederate  of  the  men,  but  a  sudden  glimpse  of  the 
moon  displayed  a  woman  struggling  with  the  water.  He  hastened 
immediately  to  the  place,  plunged  into  the  water,  brought  her  safely 
to  the  bank,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  her  desperate  design.  She 
told  him  she  was  pregnant  by  a  gentleman  who  suspected  that  he 
was  not  the  cause,  and  had  abandoned  the  connexion  ;  but  her  un- 
fortunate condition  was  obvious,  and  that  her  father  had  discarded 
her ;  therefore,  hopeless  of  recovering  her  seducer  and  her  parent, 
she  had  resolved  to  get  rid  of  her  misery  by  suicide.  On  further  in- 
quiry, the  gentleman  found  that  he  was  acquainted  with  her  seducer 
and  her  parent.  To  the  former  he  disclosed  this  desperate  proof 
of  the  probable  truth  of  her  charge,  and,  as  her  character  was  other- 
wise amiable,  he  married  her.  She  was  reconciled  to  her  family, 
and  conducted  herself  as  a  wife  and  mother  with  fidelity  and  affection. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

The  Rev.  William  Jackson.  It  may  be  thought  strange  that, 
considering  the  unfortunate  end  of  this  gentleman,  I  should  intro- 
duce him  in  the  present  work ;  but  as  he  was  one  of  my  earliest 
friends,  and  as  I  derived  much  advantage  from  his  conversation  and 
counsel,  during  the  intercourse  of  many  years,  I  cannot  but  remem- 
ber him  with  pleasure  as  well  as  regret.  I  became  acquainted  with 
him  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mills,  formerly  a  public  singer  at  Vauxhall, 
and  afterward  a  musical  actress  at  Drury-lane  theatre,  during  the 
management  of  Mr.  Garrick.  Her  maiden  name  was  Burchill, 
under  which  name  she  originally  sang  at  Vauxhall  Gardens,  and,  I 
believe,  was  apprenticed  to  old  Mr.  Tyers,  the  first  proprietor  of 
that  place  of  amusement.    She  was  in  the  capacity  of  a  milk-girl  in 


REV.  WM,  JACKSON— MR*  MILLS. 


411 


the  neighbourhood  of  Mr.  Tyers's  country  seat,  and  used  to  sing 
while  she  carried  on  her  pastoral  employment.  Mr.  Tyers  was 
struck  with  the  sweetness,  power,  and  extent  of  her  voice,  and  in- 
quiring into  her  condition,  obtained  the  consent  of  her  parents  to 
bind  her  to  his  service.  She,  therefore,  for  some  years  lived  with 
his  family,  and  received  musical  instruction  at  his  expense.  She  was 
not  disposed  to  study,  and  therefore  made  very  little  progress  in 
musical  science,  depending  wholly  on  her  ear  and  her  memory. 

During  her  apprenticeship  she  married  the  younger  Vincent,  a 
performer  on  the  oboe,  an  instrument  on  which  his  father  obtained 
celebrity,  and  one  of  the  band  in  the  Vauxhall  orchestra.  When 
her  articles  expired,  she  was  engaged  at  Drury-lane  theatre ;  and 
Churchill,  one  of  the  least  lenient  of  poetical  critics,  speaks  of  her 
in  his  "  Rosciad"  in  the  following  terms  : 

"  Lo  !  Vincent  comes — with  simple  grace  array'd  ; 
She  laughs  at  paltry  arts,  and  scorns  parade. 
Nature,  through  her,  is  by  reflection  shown, 
While  Gay  once  more  knows  Polly  for  his  own. 
Talk  not  to  me  of  diffidence  and  fear, 
I  see  it  all,  but  must  forgive  it  here  ; 
Defects  like  these  which  modest  terrors  cause, 
From  impudence  itself  extort  applause  ; 
Candour  and  Reason  still  take  Virtue's  part ; 
We  love  e'en  foibles  with  so  good  a  heart." 

Here  Churchill  was  probably  induced  to  give  so  favourable  a  re- 
port of  her  abilities  by  his  personal  knowledge  of  her  amiable  dispo- 
sition ;  for  I  was  on  intimate  terms  with  her  in  my  early  days,  and 
can  vouch  for  the  justness  of  the  poet's  testimony  in  favour  of  her 
disposition,  though  he  was  certainly  too  partial  to  her  talents.  With 
little  education,  she  had  an  excellent  understanding,  and  with  the 
advantage  of  good  culture,  would  have  been  an  excellent  epistolary 
writer. 

On  the  death  of  Mr.  Vincent,  a  few  years  after  she  quitted  the 
stage,  and  was  married  to  Mr.  Mills,  a  gentleman  who  was  captain 
of  one  of  the  ships  that  coast  to  different  British  settlements  in  India, 
and  subsequently  occupied  a  public  station  at  Calcutta.  This  gen- 
tleman was  the  last  survivor  of  those  who  were  unfortunately  con- 
fined in  what  was  styled  the  Black  Hole  at  Calcutta.  He  is  men- 
tioned by  Mr.  Orme  in  his  account  of  our  Military  Operations  in 
India  with  great  honour,  for  his  kindness  to  Governor  Holwell  on 
that  melancholy  occasion. 

Mr.  Mills  related  the  mournful  event  to  me  himself.  He  told  me 
that  he  stood  near  to  the  window  in  that  dreadful  situation,  and  that 
Governor  Holwell  stood  immediately  behind  him.  The  governor, 
nearly  exhausted  by  pressure  and  the  want  of  air,  in  a  languid  tone 
said,  that  unless  he  could  get  nearer  to  the  window,  he  should  soon 
be  dead.  Mr.  Mills  told  me  that  he  felt  himself  so  strong,  that,  re- 
flecting on  the  importance  of  the  governor's  life  compared  with  his 


412 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


own,  he  with  great  difficulty  made  way  for  the  governor,  and  took 
the  place  which  he  had  left.  The  consequence  was  that  the  gov- 
ernor revived,  but  Mr.  Mills  was  soon  exhausted,  and  on  the  open- 
ing of  the  door,  was  removed  as  apparently  dead,  among  those  who 
fell  victims  on  the  spot. 

Governor  Holwell,  in  his  account,  as  far  as  I  remember,  does  not 
render  the  same  justice  to  Mr.  Mills  as  the  latter  received  from  the 
statement  of  Mr.  Orme. 

I  was  so  attached  to  Mrs.  Mills's  daughter,  that  if  our  means  would 
have  justified  us,  we  should  have  been  married.  The  mother  tol- 
erated our  courtship  under  a  persuasion,  too  common,  that  prosper- 
ous events  might  possibly  occur.  I  had,  however,  a  lucky  escape, 
as  she  proved  a  very  frail  character.  She  married  the  son  of  Mr. 
Ferguson,  who  formerly  gave  lectures  on  astronomy,  and  other 
branches  of  science,  in  this  metropolis.  The  son  was  a  surgeon  in 
the  service  of  the  Hon.  East  India  Company.  His  grave  disposition 
illsuited  with  the  volatile  character  of  his  wife,  and  she  soon  parted 
with  him,  placing  herself  under  another  protector,  whom  she  quitted 
in  turn,  according  to  Rowe's  description  : 

"  One  lover  to  another  still  succeeds, 
Another  and  another  after  that, 
And  the  last  fool  was  welcome  as  the  former." 

However,  as  her  personal  charms  were  much  upon  the  wane,  during 
her  residence  with  her  last  protector,  an  old  foreigner,  she  ended  her 
life  with  him.  He  was  rich,  and  as  he  was  anxious  to  qualify  her 
as  a  public  singer,  he  employed  many  musical  instructers  at  a  con- 
siderable expense,  but  to  no  purpose,  as  her  voice,  though  powerful, 
was  not  well-toned,  and  she  did  not  possess  a  correct  ear.  My  old 
friend,  the  late  Dr.  Arnold,  told  me  that  having  been  professionally 
consulted,  he  honestly  advised  the  old  gentleman  to  desist  from  the 
attempt,  as  her  voice  was  acid,  her  ear  incorrect,  and  she  did  not 
possess  requisite  talents.  The  old  gentleman,  however,  was  too 
dotingly  fond  to  listen  to  the  doctor's  disinterested  and  friendly  coun- 
sel, and  other  professors  were  employed,  but  without  success  ;  and 
at  last  she  relinquished  the  vain  attempt. 

My  friendship  for  the  mother,  and  my  recollection  of  my  early 
attachment  to  herself,  induced  me  to  take  an  interest  in  her  success. 
I  went  to  hear  her  sing  at  the  Pantheon,  when  the  concerts  at  that 
place  were  under  the  direction  of  my  old  friend,  Dr.  Burney.  I  was^ 
not  able  to  be  in  time  for  the  first  act  of  the  concert,  and  therefore 
asked  the  doctor  how  Mrs.  Ferguson  came  off.'  "What,  did  you 
not  hear  her  in  the  first  act  ?"  said  the  doctor.  On  my  answering 
in  the  negative,  "Well,"  said  he,  with  the  caution  that  usually 
accompanies  a  long  knowledge  of  the  world,  "  she  sings  in  the 
second  act,  and  then  you  can  judge  for  yourself."  I  found,  on 
hearing  her,  that  Dr.  Arnold's  opinion,  as  I  might  of  course  have  ex- 


REV.  WILLIAM  JACKSON. 


413 


pected,  was  well  founded,  and  was  confirmed,  by  implication,  by 
the  wary  reserve  of  Dr.  Burney. 

Mrs.  Mills  retained  her  friendship  for  me  during  her  life.  I  ought 
to  have  before  mentioned,  that,  observing  the  levity  of  her  daughter, 
in  pure  friendship  she  advised  me  to  break  off  the  connexion.  I 
attended  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Mills  by  desire  of  her  husband,  who 
survived  her  many  years  ;  and  at  his  request  also,  wrote  the  epitaph 
which  is  inscribed  on  her  tombstone  in  the  church-yard  of  St 
Pancras.  But  I  have  wandered  too  long  from  the  account  of  my 
unfortunate  friend  Mr.  Jackson. 

He  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  was  entered  at  the  University  of 
Oxford,  where  he  resided  many  years,  and  was  afterward  ordained 
and  acted  as  curate  at  St.  Mary-le- Strand,  but  never  obtained  a 
benefice.  I  never  heard  him  preach,  but  have  been  told  that  his 
matter  was  solid,  and  his  manner  dignified  and  solemn.  When  I 
first  knew  him  he  was  married  to  a  widow.  She  was  older  than  her 
husband,  of  a  romantic  turn,  and  much  inclined  to  read  novels. 
She  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  performed  sufficiently  to  amuse 
herself  on  the  piano-forte. 

When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Jackson,  he  was  editor 
of  a  daily  paper,  entitled  the  "  Public  Ledger,"  which,  amid  the 
novelties  and  fluctuations  of  the  diurnal  press,  is  the  only  one  that 
still  maintains  its  ground,  its  only  competitors  at  that  period  being 
the  "Public  Advertiser,"  "The  Gazetteer,"  and  the  "  Daily  Adver- 
tiser," all  of  which  have  sunk  into  oblivion.  The  "  Public  Ledger," 
at  the  time  that  Mr.  Jackson  conducted  it,  had  an  action  brought 
against  it  by  the  celebrated  Samuel  Foote,  for  a  libel  on  his  char- 
acter on  a  charge  too  well  known  to  need  mentioning  in  this  place. 
Mr.  Foote,  whose  morals  were  of  the  loosest  description,  and  whose 
extravagant  mode  of  living  obliged  him  to  raise  supplies  as  well  as 
he  could,  addressed  a  letter  to  the  celebrated  Duchess  of  Kingston,, 
intimating  to  the  lady  that  he  had  written  a  drama,  in  which  she  was 
the  heroine,  but  that  it  was  in  her  power  to  prevent  its  introduction 
on  the  stage.  The  duchess,  indignant  at  this  application,  the  meaning 
of  which  was  obvious,  sent  an  angry  and  contemptuous  answer,  prob- 
ably thinking  that  if  she  were  to  bribe  him  in  one  instance,  she  might 
be  subject  to  future  applications.  Foote  replied  :  the  duchess 
rejoined  with  much  asperity,  sarcasm,  and  not  without  indecent 
allusions. 

The  correspondence  was  published,  and  appeared  in  all  the  public 
journals  of  the  times,  and  is  introduced  by  my  old  friend  Mr.  Cooke 
in  his  Life  of  Foote.  Foote  evidently  conceived  that  the  letters 
which  bore  the  signature  of  the  duchess  were  really  the  production 
of  Jackson,  and  therefore,  when  he  brought  upon  the  stage  his 
comedy  called  "  A  Trip  to  Calais  "  he  introduced  Jackson  under 
the  name  of  Dr.  Viper,  as  chaplain  to  Lady  Kilty  Crocodile,  meaning 
the  duchess. 

Here  I  may  mention  a  cordial  junction  between  those  who  were 


414 


RECORDS  OF   MY  LIFE. 


once  adverse  to  each  other,  a  circumstance  indeed  not  uncommon, 
in  the  fluctuation  of  human  affairs.  John  Palmer,  the  actor,  repre- 
sented Jackson  as  Dr.  Viper,  imitating  his  manner,  and  copying  the 
peculiarities  of  his  dress  with  black  frogs  on  his  coat ;  yet  a  few- 
years  afterward  Palmer  and  Jackson  became  intimate  friends,  and 
co-operated  in  the  erection  of  the  Royalty  theatre,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  that  in  Goodman's  Fields,  where  Garrick  first  appeared  on  a 
London  stage. 

Jackson's  first  wife  was  the  widow  of  a  gentleman  of  Cornwall, 
who  died  before  he  came  of  age,  otherwise  he  would  have  been 
possessed  of  2000/.  a-year,  and  of  course  have  better  provided  for  a 
v/idow.  She  was  a  woman  of  an  excellent  understanding,  with 
great  humour,  though,  as  I  have  said,  somewhat  romantic.  She 
died  of  a  cancer  in  her  breast,  which  she  bore  with  great  fortitude, 
and  received  all  possible  kindness  and  sympathy  from  her  husband, 
who  stood  near  her  couch  for  hours,  fanning  her  during  the  warmth 
of  the  season  and  the  violence  of  her  disorder. 

I  attended  her  funeral,  which  fully  attested,  by  its  expense,  the 
respect  of  her  husband,  though  whatever  income  she  possessed 
expired  with  her.  Jackson  was  a  very  gallant  man,  and  much 
favoured  by  the  ladies,  but  so  negligent,  that  he  suffered  the  letters 
from  his  fair  correspondents  to  remain  in  his  coat  pocket,  to  which 
his  wife  had  easy  access.  On  one  or  two  occasions,  when  the  ladies 
had  appointed  Clement's  Inn  as  the  place  for  meeting  with  Jackson, 
his  wife  used  to  attend  at  the  time  and  place,  but  Jackson  was  so 
prudent  that  he  was  never  seen,  and  therefore,  though  his  wife  was 
very  jealous,  she  had  no  proof  of  his  infidelity. 

"  The  Public  Ledger,"  as  I  have  said,  was  under  a  prosecution 
from  Foote  at  the  time  when  I  became  acquainted  with  Jackson, 
who  then  was  the  editor.  The  ground  of  the  action  was  a  series  of 
letters  on  the  charge  against  Foote,  written  with  great  bitterness  by 
Jackson — no  doubt  by  the  instigation  of  the  Duchess  of  Kingston,  to 
whom  Jackson  appeared  to  be  in  the  light  of  chaplain,  though,  from 
the  lady's  character  and  conduct,  however  she  might  need  religious 
consultation,  she  was  not  at  all  likely  to  require  it.  During  the  legal 
progress  of  the  action,  Foote  luckily  died,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
fears  of  the  proprietor  of  "  The  Ledger." 

Among  the  friends  and  visiters  of  Mr.  Jackson  were  old  General 
Oglethorpe,  who  is  immortalized  in  the  lines  of  Pope,  Home  Tooke, 
Francis  Hargrave  the  eminent  lawyer,  Dr.  Schomberg  the  younger, 
M.D.  (not  he  of  Bath,  who  lost  the  good  opinion  of  the  people  of 
that  city),  and  other  men  of  known  talents,  whom  I  do  not  at  present 
recollect.  Mr.  Jackson  was  a  stanch  friend  to  popular  freedom 
long  before  the  French  revolution  spread  its  horrors  over  Europe, 
Besides  the  natural  love  of  liberty  which  characterizes  mankind,  he 
caught  the  flame  of  freedom  from  the  American  revolution. 

Soon  after  the  acknowledgment  of  the  independence  of  our 
American  colonies,  he  published  a  work  entitled  "The  Constitutions 


RET.  WILLIAM  JACKSON. 


415 


of  America,"  with  a  preface  and  notes,  all  laudatory  of  the  political 
principles  on  which  their  independence  was  founded.  He  continued 
his  defence  of  those  principles  in  "  The  Ledger"  and  "  The  White- 
hall Evening  Post,"  and  often  paid  me  the  compliment  of  reading  to 
me  his  lucubrations  in  the  latter  paper  before  he  sent  them  to  General 
Oglethorpe,  Home,  and  other  friends. 

In  "  The  Public  Ledger,"  he  introduced  a  series  of  letters  under 
the  signature  of  "  Curtius,"  which  appeared,  to  my  humble  judg- 
ment, powerfully  written.  He  seemed  to  insinuate  that  they  were 
the  production  of  «•  Junius;''  but  he  unconsciously  betrayed  the 
secret  that  they  were  his  own,  for  he  asked  me  if  I  knew  any  legal- 
friend  who  would  examine  one  of  these  letters,  and  tell  me  whether 
it  could  be  safely  published.  I  told  him  that  I  was  intimate  with  Dr. 
Monsey,  who  often  dined  with  his  old  friend  Lord  Walsingham, 
formerly  Lord  Chief-justice  De  Grey,  and  that  I  would  request  the 
doctor  to  submit  it  to  his  lordship.  When  he  put  the  MS.  into  my 
hand  I  saw  that  it  was  in  his  own  handwriting,  and  that  there  were 
many  erasures  and  interlineations.  Hence  1  concluded  that  it  must 
he  his  own  composition ;  because  I  inferred  that  no  oiher  author, 
and  particularly  Junius,  would  permit  him  to  take  such  liberties,  and 
that,  indeed,  he  would  not  have  presumed  to  do  so  with  the  latter. 
The  letter  itself  was  throughout  written  with  great  vigour,  but  with 
a  dangerous  freedom,  as  is  evident  from  the  following  passage,  which 
I  took  pains  to  recollect,  because  it  struck  me  as  surprising  that  the 
writer  could  have  a  doubt  whether  it  could  be  safely  published.  The 
letter  was  addressed  to  a  great  personage,  now  no  more  : — {<  The 

people  no  longer  consider  your  's  appetite  for  blood  as  the 

military  madness  of  a  boy-monarch  who  wantons  in  new-obtained 
authority,  but  as  the  established  affection  of  the  full-blown  man, 
serenely  savage  and  deliberately  destructive."  I  took  the  letter  to 
Dr.  Monsey,  who  carried  it  to  Lord  Walsingham.  His  lordship 
being  then  free  from  all  the  cares  of  public  employment,  kindly 
perused  the  letter,  and  Dr.  Monsey  told  me  that  this  was  his  lordship's 
answer  :  "  It  is  ably  written,  but  it  is  not  Junius  ;  and  let  the  author 
be  told,  that  if  he  is  a  candidate  for  fine,  imprisonment,  and  the 
pillory,  nobody  can  dispute  his  pretensions."  The  letter,  in  conse- 
quence of  this  opinion,  was  never  published,  and  the  letters  of  "  Cur- 
tius," I  believe,  were  no  longer  continued. 

Mr.  Jackson  was  afterward  editor  of  "  The  Morning  Post," 
during  the  memorable  Westminster  scrutiny  on  the  disputed  election 
of  Charles  Fox.  He  was  adverse  to  "The  Champion  of  the  People," 
as  Mr.  Fox's  party  then  styled  him.  Mr.  Jackson  allotted  a  part  of 
"The  Morning  Post"  to  an  article  which  he  called  "  The  Scrutineer." 
In  this  article  he  varied  his  attacks  upon  the  Fox  party  with  great 
force  and  humour,  it  sometimes  appearing  as  a  proclamation,  some- 
times as  a  dialogue,  sometimes  as  a  hue-and-cry,  and  under  many 
other  forms,  which  displayed  the  fertility  of  his  powers,  particularly 
as  the  literary  hostility  continued  as  long  as  the  scrutiny.    The  party 


416 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


was  galled,  but  had  not  wit,  humour,  and  argument  enough  to  answer 
him.    "  The  Rolliad5'  alluded  to  these  attacks,  in  mentioning — 

"  The  lofty  nothings  of  «  The  Scrutineer.'  " 

but  had  nothing  to  say  in  plain  prose. 

I  remember  that  the  late  Mr,  Perry,  of  "  The  Morning  Chronicle," 
expressed  his  surprise  to  me  at  the  vigour  and  variety  of  Jackson's 
powers,  as  they  appeared  in  "  The  Scrutineer,"  though  he  was  a 
determined  Foxite,  and  therefore  likely  to  speak  of  it  with  indiffer- 
ence, if  not  with  affected  contempt,  as  he  generally  did  of  every  thing 
that  did  not  appear  in  his  own  journal. 

I  will  mention  but  one  anecdote  of  Mr.  Perry,  whom  I  knew 
upwards  of  thirty  years.  On  the  day  after  the  Earl  of  Liverpool 
had  stated  the  grounds  of  his  charges  against  the  late  Queen  Caroline, 
I  met  Mr.  Perry  in  Piccadilly.  We  stopped,  and  spoke  together  in 
the  presence  of  a  mutual  acquaintance,  whom  I  do  not  now  recollect. 
"  Well,"  said  I, «« Perry,  if  these  charges  against  the  queen  are  well- 
founded,  the  next  thing  that  we  shall  hear  of  is,  that,  she  has  poisoned 
herself  or  left  the  country."  His  answer,  in  his  Scotch  accent,  was, 
"Ah!  Jock,  Jock,  how  little  you  know  of  that  woman  !  She  would 
pull  down  the  throne  of  this  country,  if  she  were  sure  to  be  buried  in 
the  ruins."  Yet  the  very  next  day,  and  during  many  following  days, 
"  The  Morning  Chronicle"  was  filled  with  praises  of  her  merit,  sym- 
pathy with  her  sufferings,  and  predictions  of  her  triumph. 

Mr.  Jackson  wrote  in  a  very  large  hand  when  he  wrote  for  the 
public  press,  and  procured  paper  of  proportionate  magnitude  for  the 
purpose. 

After  the  memorable  scrutiny  already  alluded  to,  Mr.  Jackson 
went  abroad,  and  I  lost  sight  of  him  for  many  years.  One  morning, 
as  I  was  passing  through  a  narrow  new  street  in  Marylebone,  I  saw 
a  gentleman  on  the  other  side  of  the  way  who  strongly  resembled 
Jackson,  but  with  a  cocked-hat  and  his  hair  in  a  queue.  I  thought 
I  must  be  mistaken.  I  remained  still,  and  the  gentleman  looking  at 
me  gravely,  crossed  the  way,  took  me  by  the  arm,  and  led  me 
towards  the  fields.  I  then  found  it  was  Jackson.  He  asked  if  I 
would  give  him  a  beefsteak  next  day,  and  then  he  would  tell  me  the 
reason  why  he  returned  to  this  country.  I  readily  assented,  and  he 
came.  I  took  care  that  nobody  should  intrude  upon  the  party,  and 
my  mother  and  sister,  who  were  well  known  to  him,  dined  with  us. 
As  I  was  somewhat  indisposed,  I  took  a  little  brandy  and  water  ; 
and,  with  the  exception  of  about  four  glasses  of  wine  drunk  by  my 
mother  and  sister,  Jackson  actually  despatched  four  bottles  without 
being  in  the  least  affected,  except  with  enlivened  spirits. 

He  told  me  that  he  returned  to  England  for  the  purpose  of 
establishing  a  kind  of  "  Magazin  du  Mode,''  consisting,  not  only  of 
the  fashions  of  France,  but  of  its  current  literature,  to  be  published 
in  French  and  English  ;  and  he  asked  me  to  introduce  him  to  those 


REV.  WILLIAM  JACKSON. 


417 


who  were  likely  to  assist  and  promote  the  circulation  of  the  work: 
The  day  passed  with  great  pleasantry.  Jackson  was  a  great  laugher, 
and  spoke  with  contemptuous  merriment  of  every  thing  in  this 
country. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  Pitt,  Fox,  and  Burke  are  thought  great 
men  in  this  country  ?" 
"  Certainly,"  said  I. 

"  Oh  !  poor,  degenerate  Britain  !"  said  he,  with  a  hearty  laugh. 
1 1  suppose,  too,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  little  man"  (meaning  the 
elder  Boswell),  "whom  I  see  trotting  about  Paiis,  is  reckoned  a 
great  writer  here  ?" 

I  answered  thai  he  had  written  a  valuable  biography  of  Dr. 
Johnson. 

He  laughed  heartily  again,  exclaiming,  "  That  little,  trotting  man  ! 
— Oh,  my  God  !  And  your  friend  Peter  Pindar,  with  his  tinkling 
rhymes,  which  he  calls  poetry — I  suppose  he  is  considered  here  as  a 
great  poet  V9 

I  answered  that  I  thought  he  was,  though  he  might  give  a  better 
direction  to  his  muse. 

Then,  with  another  laugh,  he  said,  "  I  fear  I  must  pity  your  taste, 
as  well  as  that  of  the  country." 

My  sister  lived  at  that  time  in  Queen-Anne-street  West,  and  Jack- 
son and  myself  attended  her  home ;  and  highly  were  we  gratified  all 
the  way  with  his  unabated  spirit  and  humour.  After  that  night  I  never 
saw  him,  and  the  next  melancholy  intelligence  which  I  heard  of  him 
was,  that  he  was  in  custody  in  Dublin,  and  was  to  be  tried  for  high 
treason. 

Before  the  trial  took  place,  Mrs.  Jackson  (his  second  wife)  came 
from  Ireland,  and  called  upon  me  at  my  house  in  Hatton  Garden. 
She  told  me  that  she  came  by  the  desire  of  her  husband,  who  consid- 
ered me  as  a  friend  not  likely  to  forsake  him  in  adversity,  to  ask  me  if  I 
thought  government  would  consent  to  exchange  him  for  Sir  Sydney 
Smith,  who  was  then  confined  in  the  prison  of  the  Temple  in  Paris,  as 
Mr.  Jackson  had  interest  with  the  French  government  at  that  time, 
and  could  probably  procure  the  consent  of  the  latter.  I  apologized  to 
her  for  giving  an  unwelcome  answer ;  but  said  it  was  my  opinion  that 
Sir  Sydney  Smith,  considering  himself  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  would 
most  probably  refuse  to  assent  to  such  an  exchange,  as  Mr.  Jackson 
did  not  stand  in  a  similar  predicament.  Being  a  woman  of  sense,  she 
was  not  offended  at  my  openness,  but  seemed  to  be  convinced  by 
what  I  said,  intimating  that,  in  desperate  cases,  any  appearance  of  a 
remedy  was  eagerly  adopted. 

I  saw  her  no  more,  except  by  accident  in  the  street.  She  was  a 
very  fine  and  intelligent  woman.  She  had  two  children  by  Mr.  Jack- 
son, the  eldest  a  son,  who  is  a  merchant  at  Florence,  with  whom  the 
mother  resides.  The  son  I  have  been  in  company  with,  and  found 
an  intelligent  and  amiable  young  man,  who,  not  harbouring  French 
principles,  was  obliged  to  quit  a  mercantile  house  in  Leghorn  when 
the  revolutionary  troops  obtained  possession  of  that  place. 


418 


RECORDS    OF  MY  LIFE. 


Mr.  Jackson  possessed  learning  and  abilities  which  would  have 
done  honour  to  the  Protestant  church.  In  my  opinion,  he  was  a 
zealot  for  liberty  and  the  independence  of  his  country,  Ireland, — like 
many  others,  who  had  more  to  sacrifice  in  the  cause  than  he  ever 
possessed, — and  not  a  rebellious  incendiary  hostile  to  the  British 
throne.  Such  he  appeared  to  many  distinguished  characters  in  Dub- 
lin, by  the  long  line  of  carriages  which  attended  his  funeral  ;  and  such 
he  appears  to  me,  or  I  should  not  have  paid  this  humble  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  an  early  and  instructive  friend.  Mr.  Jackson  wrote  an 
answer  to  Dr.  Johnson's  pamphlet,  entitled  "  Taxation  no  Tyranny," 
eloquently  opposing  the  doctor's  arguments  upon  the  principles  of 
American  independence.  He  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  works  of 
Dr.  Young,  and  went  to  Welwyn  on  purpose  to  see  that  celebrated 
writer,  whose  "  Night  Thoughts"  he  repeated  with  energetic  effect, 
and  his  Satires  with  easy  spirit. 

Mr.  Jackson  had  an  odd  species  of  ironical  humour,  both  in  his 
writing  and  conversation.  Of  the  former  kind,  I  at  present  only 
recollect  one  instance.  In  an  ironical  letter  to  Lord  North,  when 
prime  minister,  which  appeared  in  "  The  Ledger,"  he  said,  "  My 
!ord,  the  people  have  such  a  sense  of  the  blessings  of  your  adminis- 
tration that  they  long  to  be  near  you  to  testify  the  gratitude  which  they 
feel ;  but  I  would  not  advise  you  to  come  among  them,  lest  in  the 
eagerness  of  their  emotions  they  should  tear  you  to  pieces  in  a  trans- 
port of  joy." 

Before  he  was  inflamed  by  the  doctrines  of  America,  and  ensnared 
by  those  of  revolutionary  France,  he  was  a  zealous  friend  to  the  Brit- 
ish constitution,  and  used  to  characterize  Wilkes  as  "  a  hackneyed 
old  knave,  a  demagogue,  and  a  blasphemer,  whose  patriotism  was  a 
pretext,  and  whose  politics  were  a  trade."  I  trust  that  I  cannot  be 
condemned  for  introducing  in  these  trifling  records  an  account  of  an 
unfortunate  gentleman,  to  whom,  in  early  life,  I  was  indebted  for 
many  hours  of  solid  pleasure  and  instruction,  resulting  from  his  learn- 
ing, knowledge  of  the  world,  kindness,  and  friendship. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

George  Chalmers,  Esq.  With  this  gentleman  I  had  many 
years  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted,  and  hold  his  memory  in  much 
respect.  He  was  chiefly  conversant  with  mercantile  and  political 
subjects,  but  also  with  works  of  general  literature.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  indefatigable  writers  that  perhaps  ever  existed,  and  subjects 
that  were  irksome  and  difficult  to  the  world  at  large,  might  be  said  to 
be  to  him  "  familiar  as  his  garters."  The  bullion  question,  for  in- 
stance, which  was  not  only  puzzling,  unintelligible,  and  repulsive  to 


GEORGE  CHALMERS,  ESQ. 


419 


others,  was  a  subject  which  he  satisfactorily  explained,  and  rendered 
as  easy  to  general  comprehension  as  general  comprehension  would 
admit.  Even  my  late  friend  William  Gifford,  who  was  as  sagacious 
a  man  as  I  ever  knew,  told  me  that  he  wished  to  understand  the  bul- 
lion question,  but  honestly  declared,  that  the  more  he  read  and  stud- 
ied the  subject,  the  less  he  understood  it,  his  mind  taking  a  retrograde 
direction. 

Mr.  Chalmers  had  been  some  years  in  America,  but  when  I  knew 
him  he  had  a  good  appointment  at  the  Board  of  Trade.  As  a  proof 
of  his  love  for,  and  knowledge  of  literary  subjects,  when  young  Ire- 
land brought  forward  his  pretended  unpublished  and  unknown  works 
of  Shakspeare,  he,  like  Dr.  Parr  and  the  elder  Boswell,  was  deceived 
at  first  by  the  imposition.  Boswell  was  so  completely  duped,  that  he 
dropped  on  his  knees,  and  thanked  God  that  he  had  lived  to  see  so 
many  indubitable  relics  of  the  divine  bard.  But  Mr.  Chalmers,  upon 
further  search,  considered  them  as  fabrications  ;  yet  in  vindication  of 
himself  and  others  who  had  been  deluded  by  the  imposition,  he  pub- 
lished an  apology  for  the  believers  in  the  supposed  Shakspeare  manu- 
scripts, books,  &c.  in  which  he  displayed  great  research,  knowledge, 
and  acumen.  He  was  not  a  little  severe  on  my  friend  Mr.  Malone, 
who  wrote  against  the  imposition,  without  having  looked  at  the  pre- 
tended relics,  and  who  had  ridiculed  those  who  had  been  betrayed 
into  credulity. 

Mr.  Chalmers  wrote  many  pamphlets  on  political  subjects,  chiefly 
in  defence  of  government  and  Mr.  Pitt's  administration  ;  and  in  all  he 
wrote  on  those  subjects,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  he  acted  from  the 
most  perfect  conviction,  and  was  entirely  exempt  from  any  interested 
bias  of  gratitude  or  expectation.  His  "  Caledonia"  was  his  great 
work ;  three  large  volumes  in  quarto  have  been  published,  and  I 
believe  he  had  far  advanced  in  the  fourth,  which  would  have  con- 
cluded his  labours  on  that  subject.  The  work,  though  not  finished, 
must  be  highly  gratifying  to  the  natives  of  Scotland,  and  to  every  ad- 
mirer of  antiquity,  as  the  author  had  collected  and  recorded  every 
thing  which  could  illustrate  the  history,  and  contribute  to  the  glory 
of  that  ancient  kingdom. 

The  various  works  of  Mr.  Chalmers  are  innumerable,  and  I  be- 
lieve, his  most  intimate  connexions  would  not  be  able  to  trace  even  a 
small  part  of  them.  But  with  all  his  sagacity,  judgment,  and  perse- 
verance, I  cannot  help  thinking  he  was  on  some  subjects  too  credu- 
lous and  hasty  in  his  conclusions.  He  conceived  that  Mr.  Hugh 
Boyd,  a  young  Irishman,  was  the  author  of"  Junius's  Letters,"  though 
not  only  Boyd's  age  and  condition  in  life  were  "  strong  against  the 
deed,"  but  his  avowed  works  were  so  different  from  the  style  of  Ju- 
nius as  to  preclude  the  supposition,  though  he  studied  and  copied  the 
manner  of  the  great  anonymous  original.  In  his  comments,  however, 
on  the  language  of  Junius,  Mr.  Chalmers  discovered  many  gramma- 
tical errors  in  those  celebrated  letters,  and  gave  many  strong  reasons 
for  believing  that  the  author  was  an  Irishman. 


420 


RECORDS  OF  MT  LIFE. 


The  arguments  and  citations  in  a  work  published  by  Mr.  Taylor, 
the  bookseller,  are  so  strong  in  favour  of  Sir  Philip  Francis  as  the 
author,  that  an  eminent  law  authority  is  said  to  have  declared,  they 
ought  to  be  admitted  in  a  court  of  justice  ;  and  I  heard  Mr.  Godwin 
once  say,  that  he  should  have  been  convinced  by  that  work,  only  that 
he  knew  Sir  Philip  Francis  had  not  sufficient  ability  for  such  compo- 
sitions as  those  celebrated  letters. 

Among  the  many  reputed  authors  of  that  great  anonymous  work, 
Burke  seems  still  to  hold  the  ascendency,  and  to  be  the  mark  of 
general  suspicion.  But  independently  of  other  reasons,  there  is,  as  I 
have  before  observed,  such  an  essential  character  in  the  expansive 
and  flowery  style  of  Burke  in  his  avowed  publications,  admitting  all 
his  literary  merit  and  political  knowledge,  as  seems  to  render  it  impos- 
sible for  him  to  have  supported  one  so  unlike  his  own,  to  such  an  ex- 
tent as  to  maintain  it  through  the  whole  progress  of  the  tc  Letters  of 
Junius."  As  to  Burke's  voluntary  denial  to  Dr.  Johnson,  that  he  was 
the  author  of  "Junius,"  I  should  place  no  dependence  on  that  decla- 
ration, relying  on  what  I  have  heard  of  Burke's  character,  from  those 
who  were  likely  to  understand  it  much  better  than  the  multitude. 

Another  proof  of  my  friend  Chalmers's  hasty  convictions  was,  his 
confident  belief  that  Mr.  Mathias  was  the  author  of  "  The  Pursuits 
of  Literature,"  insomuch  that  he  actually  put  an  advertisement  in  the 
newspapers,  positively  charging  him  with  being  the  author,  though 
there  was  only  a  rumour  that  he  had  been  known  to  have  had  some 
hand  in  it  as  it  passed  through  the  press. 

Mr.  Chalmers  told  me  that  he  intended  to  write  a  life  of  Thom- 
son ;  but  he  did  not  live  to  fulfil  his  design — a  subject  of  regret,  as 
his  inquiring  and  indefatigable  mind  would  doubtless  have  produced 
an  interesting  biography  of  one  of  our  greatest  poets.  Having  men- 
tioned to  Dr.  Wolcot  that  I  had  dined  with  Mr.  Chalmers,  and  also 
the  articles  which  he  possessed  that  had  belonged  to  Thomson,  the 
doctor,  who,  like  Thomson,  saw  every  thing  with  a  poetical  eye, 
asked  me  if  I  had  not  written  something  on  this  subject,  and  hence 
I  was  induced  to  write  the  following  trifle. 

TO  GEORGE  CHALMERS,  ESQ. 
The  possessor  of  a  table  and  wine-glasses  which  belonged  to  Thomson  the  poet. 
Friend  Chalmers,  'tis  a  noble  treat 
At  Thomson's  hallow'd  board  to  meet — 

The  bard  of  Nature's  sphere — 
The  bard  whom,  long  as  ages  roll, 
And  Nature  animates  the  whole, 

Taste,  Virtue,  will  revere. 

'Tis  surely  form'd  of  Britain's  oak, 
That  bears  her  thunder's  dreadful  stroke 
O'er  all  her  subject  main. 
For,  lo  !  Britannia's*  sacred  laws, 
And  Liberty's*  congenial  cause, 
Inspired  his  patriot  strain. 

*  Poems  by  Thomson. 


ALEXANDER  CHALMERS,  ESQ, 


431 


Not  Arthur's,  with  his  knights  around, 
By  fond  tradition  long  renovvn'd, 

Should  equal  thine  in  fame  ; 
Nor  that  where  plates  the  Trojans  ate, 
Portentous  of  a  happier  fate, 

Though  graced  with  Virgil's  name. 

The  Poet's  goblets,  too,  are  thine, — 
With  votive  bumpers  let  them  shine, 

In  Thomson's  praise  to  ring, 
Whose  works  through  Summer's  parching  glow, 
Seard  Autumn,  Winter's  blighting  snow, 

Will  bloom  in  endless  Spring. 

The  nephew  and  namesake  of  this  gentleman  paid  me  the  melan- 
choly compliment  of  inviting  me  to  the  funeral  of  his  uncle,  which  I 
accepted,  willing  to  show  my  respect  for  the  memory  of  a  man  who, 
with  all  his  zeal  for  literature  and  good  government,  was  chiefly 
anxious  to  discover  truth,  and  to  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind. 

The  name  of  Chalmers  naturally  draws  my  attention  to  another 
friend,  whom  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  for  upwards  of 
forty  years,  and  who  is  still  able  to  contribute  to  the  benefit  of  the 
public  by  his  writings,  and  by  his  intrinsic  merits  to  the  gratification 
of  his  numerous  friends. 

Alexander  Chalmers,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  by  his  talents, 
learning,  and  social  character,  has  attracted  a  numerous  train  of 
friends,  and  they  are  such  as  are  connected  with  him  not  merely  by 
convivial  intercourse,  but  by  congenial  powers  and  attainments.  I 
have  heard  that  he  came  from  Aberdeen,  intending  to  practise,  after 
receiving  due  qualifications  in  that  city,  the  profession  of  a  surgeon 
in  London  ;  but  rinding,  as  the  saying  is,  that  "  the  market  was  over- 
stocked," he  turned  his  attention  to  literary  pursuits,  and  soon 
became  well  known  as  a  man  of  talent  and  learning.  He  quickly 
obtained  employment  among  those  essential  patrons  of  literature,  the 
booksellers,  and  innumerable  publications  issued  from  his  pen. 

He  has  been  long  known  as  the  editor  of  "  The  Biographical  Dic- 
tionary," in  which  many  of  the  articles  were  written  by  himself* 
He  is  also  the  editor  of  a  collection  of  the  works  of  the  English 
poets,  of  most  of  whom  lives  are  prefixed  written  by  him,  but  he  has 
modestly  introduced  all  the  lives  written  by  Dr.  Johnson,  though  it 
may  truly  be  said  that  his  own  are  not  less  characterized  by  judg- 
ment, certainly  more  distinguished  by  industrious  research,  and  per- 
haps by  purer  taste  and  more  candid  criticism. 

The  only  original  work  of  imagination  that  I  know  to  have  been 
written  by  Mr.  Alexander  Chalmers  is  a  periodical  paper,  in  three 
volumes,  entitled  "  The  Projector,"  which  first  appeared  successively 
in  numbers,  in  that  venerable  and  valuable  repository  of  literature, 
"  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  which  Mr.  Chalmers  afterward  col- 
lected and  published,  but  to  which,  with  hardly  an  excusable  diffi- 
dence, he  has  declined  to  prefix  his  name.  This  is  a  work  of  great 
humour,  and  of  the  purest  moral  tendency.    It  abounds  with  satiri- 


422 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


cal  irony,  perhaps  to  an  excess,  demonstrating  an  extraordinary- 
talent  for  that  quality,  and  always  rendering  it  subservient  to  a  moral 
purpose. 

Mr.  Chalmers  has  published  a  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford, 
in  which  every  thing  that  taste  and  judgment  could  discover  has 
been  faithfully  illustrated  and  recorded.  During  the  whole  of  my 
long  friendship  with  this  gentleman,  though  occasional  sparring 
matches  have  passed  between  us,  not  the  slightest  tendency  to  ill- 
humour  ever  appeared  on  either  part ;  and  if  there  had,  it  was  more 
likely  to  have  arisen  on  my  side,  on  account  of  his  powers  of  con- 
versation, supported  by  various  knowledge,  and  such  an  abundant 
store  of  anecdotes  as  few  possess,  and  which  none  can  relate  with 
more  point  and  effect. 

I  look  back  with  pleasure  on  the  time  when  we  were  both  young 
and  active,  and  used  to  take  long  walks  together,  dine  at  some  tavern 
on  our  road,  adjourn  for  an  hour  or  two  to  one  of  the  theatres,  and 
finally  end  the  night  at  the  Turk's  Head  Coffee-house  in  the  Strand, 
where  we  were  sure  to  meet  with  facetious  and  intelligent  friends ; 
among  whom  were  Mr.  George  Gordon,  a  Scotch  agent,  a  gentle- 
man of  great  wit  and  humour,  and  with  literary  talents  of  no  ordi- 
nary rate  ;  the  learned  and  rather  too  convivial  Porson  ;  the  late  Mr. 
Perry,  proprietor  of  "  The  Morning  Chronicle;"  sometimes  the 
elder  Boswell ;  and  "  though  last,  not  least"  in  social  humour,  the 
facetious  Hewardine,  who  possessed  talents  which,  properly  directed, 
would  have  rendered  him  a  useful  and  valuable  member  of  society, 
but  who  fell  in  the  prime  of  life,  a  sacrifice  to  the  uncontrollable 
indulgence  of  convivial  excesses. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

John  King,  Esq.  In  my  early  days  I  knew  this  celebrated  char- 
acter, so  well  known  as  the  chief  agent  in  his  time  for  money-lend- 
ers, and  who,  being  of  the  Jewish  persuasion,  was  generally  styled 
Jew  King.  I  was  acquainted  with  him  for  upwards  of  forty  years. 
I  have  heard  many  reflections  on  his  character,  but  can  truly  say 
that  I  never  observed  any  thing  in  his  conduct,  or  ever  heard  him 
utter  a  sentiment,  that  could  be  injurious  to  his  reputation.  He  was 
hospitable  and  attentive.  He  was  fond  of  having  men  of  talent  at  his 
table,  and  seemed  capable  of  comprehending  and  of  enjoying  what- 
ever fell  from  them.  I  introduced  Dr.  Wolcot  to  him,  and  he 
seemed  thoroughly  to  understand  his  character  and  to  relish  his 
humour. 

The  Honourable  Mrs.  Grattan,  sister  of  Lord  Falkland,  was  one 
of  his  visiters,  with  her  brothers,  Lord  Falkland,  and  also  the  Hon- 


:  JOHN  KING,  ESQ. 


423 


ourable  Charles  Carey,  afterward  Lord  Falkland.  Musical  ama- 
teurs were  among  the  parties,  who  rendered  the  house  an  agree- 
able and  elegant  receptacle.  Cards  were  seldom  introduced,  and  I 
never  observed  that,  when  they  were,  there  were  high  stakes  or  high 
betting.  From  all  I  could  observe  of  Mr.  King,  I  had  never  the 
least  reason  to  believe  that  any  of  his  invitations  were  for  pecuniary 
purposes.  He  was  extensively  concerned  in  money  transactions  by 
all  accounts,  and  chiefly  with  young  Irish  noblemen,  not  much 
renowned  for  rectitude, — and  if  he  raised  money  for  them,  and  they 
violated  their  obligations,  the  odium  was  thrown  upon  him  ;  yet,  a» 
he  carried  on  this  business  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  and  still 
found  employment,  it  may  be  supposed  that  the  lenders,  at  least,  con- 
tinued to  place  confidence  in  him. 

Lady  Lanesborough,  who  appeared  as  his  wife,  it  is  said  could  not 
be  really  so,  because  he  had  married  early  in  life,  according  to  the 
Jewish  rites,  and  the  first  wife  was  then  alive.  It  cannot  be  doubted, 
however,  that  he  was  united  to  her  according  to  the  forms  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  I  never  heard  he  was  disturbed  by  the 
claims  of  the  first  wife.  Lady  Lanesborough  was  a  very  sensible 
woman,  and  very  elegant  in  her  manners.  She  appeared  to  me 
exactly  to  conform  to  the  idea  of  what  is  styled  a  woman  of  quality, 
It  has  been  doubted,  as  I  have  said,  whether  she  was  really  married 
to  Mr.  King  ;  but,  unless  the  marriage  had  taken  place,  it  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  he  would  have  been  permitted  to  control  her  property 
by  her  family,  particularly  by  my  old  friend  Mr.  Danvers  Butler,  heir 
son,  a  very  spirited  and  intelligent  man,  who  lived  in  King's  house,, 
and  appeared  to  be  upon  the  most  friendly  terms  with  him. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Lord  Falkland  at  Mr.  King's.  He  was 
rather  of  a  grave  disposition,  but  sensible  of  humour.  I  was  rather 
more  intimate  with  his  brother  Charles,  a  naval  officer,  who  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title.  The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  told  me  that  he  had 
acquired  about  30,000Z.  prize-money,  and  as  we  had  often  talked  of 
taking  a  beefsteak  together,  he  said  that  within  a  fortnight  he  would 
fix  the  day ;  but,  about  a  week  after,  I  heard  the  melancholy  ac* 
count  of  his  death  in  a  duel  with  Mr.  Powell,  whom  he  had  called 
<*  Pogy,"  and  who  resented  it  in  him,  though  it  was  a  nick-name  by 
which  he  was  generally  designated  among  his  friends.  This  last 
Lord  Falkland  was  a  handsome,  fine-looking  man,  good-humoured., 
and  esteemed  a  very  gallant  officer. 

Mr.  Holcroft  and  Mr.  Godwin  were  frequent  visiters  at  Mr. 
Kmg's,  and  other  men  of  talent,  whom  I  do  not  now  remember. 
Holcroft  was  inclined  to  bring  forward  his  philosophical  opinions, 
and  was  irritable  if  contradicted  ;  but  Godwin  was  more  guarded,, 
and  seldom  spoke.  King  sometimes  mixed  in  the  conversation  with 
both,  and  generally  made  shrewd  answers  to  them. 

Mr.  King  was  an  able  writer  on  political  subjects,  and  instituted  a 
public  journal,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten,  and  which  had 
but  a  short  duration.    Lady  Lanesborough  survived  him,  and  I  heard 

T  2 


424 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


from  one  of  the  family  that  she  fainted  on  hearing  of  his  death.  In 
the  early  part  of  his  life  he  was  a  great  admirer  of  pugilism,  and  was 
esteemed  a  good  boxer.  When  I  first  knew  Mr.  King,  he  used 
after  dinner  to  introduce  Humphrey,  his  foot-boy,  and  spar  with 
him.  Humphrey  derived  the  rudiments  of  his  art  from  his  master. 
King  was  always  his  friend  when  he  became  a  pugilist  by  profession. 

Lady  Lanesborough  had  a  daughter  as  well  as  a  son  by  her  first 
husband,  who  had  been  many  years  married  before  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  introduced  to  her.  She  was  styled  the  Marchioness  of 
Mariscotti ;  and  among  all  my  acquaintance  with  the  female  sex  she 
was  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  interesting  women  I  ever  knew. 
There  was  an  ingenuous  simplicity  in  her  manners  that  seemed 
almost  to  approach  to  the  innocence  of  childhood,  only  that  her 
good  sense,  knowledge,  and  accomplishments  were  thoroughly 
accordant  with  her  time  of  life  and  her  rank. 

My  old  friend  Mr.  Brooke,  whose  knowledge  of  life  could  rarely 
be  equalled,  used  to  characterize  this  lady  by  the  epithet  of  "  guile- 
less," and  never,  1  believe,  was  an  epithet  more  appropriate.  Mr. 
Butler,  her  brother,  took  the  addition  of  Danvers  to  his  name,  having 
married  an  heiress  of  considerable  fortune  of  that  name.  I  was 
introduced  to  her,  but  my  acquaintance  with  her  was  very  short,  as 
she  died  soon  after.  She  appeared  to  be  an  amiable  domestic 
character.  She  left  one  son,  with  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
being  acquainted,  but  I  shall  say  no  more  than  that  I  respect  him 
for  his  manners  and  character. 

Mr.  King,  during  my  long  acquaintance  with  him,  experienced  the 
vicissitudes  of  fortune.  I  have  sometimes  seen  him  riding  in  his 
carriage  with  Lady  Lanesborough  and  his  family,  and  other  times 
trudging  through  the  streets  arm-in-arm  with  her  in  very  indifferent 
weather.  He  was  a  remarkably  good-humoured  man,  and  I  never 
heard  a  splenetic  word  from  him.  I  have  understood  that  when  any 
of  his  literary  friends  have  not  been  successful  in  their  publications, 
he  has  purchased  many  copies  of  their  works,  to  distribute  gratui- 
tously among  his  connexions. 

I  know  that  Mr.King's  character  was  the  subject  of  severe  animad- 
versions, but  as  all  I  observed  of  him  was  creditable  to  him,  I  will  not 
be  deterred  from  paying  this  tribute  to  his  memory,  as  I  have  enjoyed 
many  pleasant  hours  at  his  table,  but  had  no  other  obligation  to  him 
than  what  I  derived  from  the  accomplished  and  intelligent  society 
which  I  met  at  his  hospitable  mansion. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention  the  second  wife  of  Mr.  Butler  Dan- 
vers, previously  Miss  Sturt,  and  the  sister  of  my  friend  Captain 
Sturt,  R.N.  She  was  beautiful  in  her  person,  engaging  in  her 
manners,  and,  though  accustomed  to  all  the  splendour  and  gayeties 
of  fashionable  life,  was  unaffected,  cheerful,  and  possessed  every 
domestic  virtue  calculated 

Well-ordered  home  man's  chief  delight  to  make. 


THE  HON.  MRS.  GRATTAN. 


425 


The  Honourable  Mrs.  Grattan,  sister  of  Lord  Falkland,  whom 
I  have  mentioned  as  one  of  the  visiters  to  Lady  Lanesborough  and 
Mr.  King,  was  very  handsome,  and  an  intelligent  woman  ;  but,  dif- 
ferent from  handsome  women  in  general,  she  seemed  to  be  regardless 
of  the  influence  of  her  person,  and  rather  desirous  to  strike  by  her 
understanding  and  accomplishments.  She  was  very  fond  of  music, 
and  by  great  labour  was  able  to  perform  two  or  three  concertos  on 
the  piano-forte,  but  did  not  seem  to  possess  any  genius  for  music,  or 
much  taste.  She  was  strongly  impregnated  with  the  pride  of  birth, 
but  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  common  sense.  She  thought  that 
she  possessed  dramatic  talents,  and  sent  me  a  play  of  her  writing, 
desiring  my  judgment.  I  honestly  gave  my  opinion,  which  was 
by  no  means  favourable,  and  she  paid  me  the  compliment  of  sup- 
pressing it. 

I  am  chiefly  induced  to  mention  this  lady  in  order  to  show,  that 
with  all  the  consciousness  of  her  rank,  and  all  the  pride  of  her 
attainments,  finding  her  income  not  sufficient  to  support  herself  in 
this  country,  she  had  the  good  sense  to  stoop  from  her  elevation  and 
leave  England,  and  go  to  America,  or  one  of  our  West  India  islands, 
where  she  opened  a  milliner's  shop  and  died  in  obscurity,  but  not 
without  obtaining  respect  for  character  and  conduct,  She  was  one 
of  the  first  persons  who  patronized  the  talents  of  the  late  Mr.  Davy, 
the  musical  composer,  from  whom  she  received  lessons,  as  well  as 
from  Mr.  Jackson,  generally  styled  Jackson  of  Exeter,  who  had 
originally  been  a  portrait-painter,  but  renounced  that  profession  in 
favour  of  music,  in  which  his  genius  and  taste  were  justly  admired, 
particularly  in  the  compositions  which  he  adapted  to  works  of 
Hammond,  Lord  Lyttelton,  and  Dr.  Wolcot.  His  latest  compositions 
were  chiefly  confined  to  the  lyric  works  of  Dr.  Wolcot,  with  whom 
he  had  long  been  in  habits  of  friendship  and  confidence. 

I  became  acquainted  with  him  at  the  house  of  the  late  Mr.  Opie, 
the  celebrated  painter.  Mr.  Jackson  possessed  an  excellent  under- 
standing, and  literary  talents  of  no  ordinary  description.  If  he  had 
devoted  himself  wholly  to  literary  pursuits,  he  would  probably  have 
rendered  himself  conspicuous  by  his  profound  knowledge  of  the 
world.  His  work  entitled  "Thirty  Letters  on  various  Subjects,"  is 
highly  creditable  to  his  talents  and  knowledge  of  human  nature.  He 
presented  it  to  me,  as  well  as  several  of  his  musical  pieces  set  to  the 
words  of  Dr.  Wolcot.  He  was  a  tall,  good-looking  man,  with  an 
expressive  face,  and  a  reserved  and  grave  demeanour.  He  appeared 
to  me  to  be  well  acquainted  with  history,  and  with  the  opinions  of 
the  ancient  philosophers.  His  talents  as  a  painter,  I  understand, 
were  by  no  means  first-rate,  but,  according  to  the  report  of  Mr. 
Opie  and  Dr.  Wolcot,  he  was  an  admirable  judge  of  painting. 

It  is  said  that  he  was  austere  in  his  domestic  character,  and  some- 
thing of  that  disposition  was  observable  in  his  general  intercourse  with 
society.  Indeed,  his  burying  himself  at  Exeter,  when  he  might  have 
been  conspicuous  in  the  metropolis,  may  be  considered  as  a  proof 


426 


RECORDS  OF  MT  LIFE. 


that  he  was  of  a  retired,  if  not  of  a  saturnine  cast  of  mind.  He  was 
one  of  the  very  few  men  whom  Doctor  Wolcot,  a  shrewd  judge  of 
mankind,  regarded  with  particular  respect  for  his  intellectual  powers; 
and  another  was  Dr.  Whitaker,  the  historian  of  Manchester,  and 
who  engaged  in  the  controversy  respecting  the  character  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots.  The  latter  told  Wolcot  that  he  envied  him  the 
power  of  making  people  laugh  hy  his  writings,  which  he  said  he  had. 
•often  attempted  to  do  in  his  own,  but  had  never  succeeded. 

Whitaker  was  also  a  man  who  confined  himself  to  the  country, 
though  eminently  qualified  by  his  powers  and  acquirements  for  a 
more  distinguished  sphere  of  action.  The  wisest  men  are  not  ex- 
empted from  pride,  and  though  he  held  the  situation  of  organist  in 
Exeter,  Jackson  was  offended  if  he  heard  himself  mentioned  as  "  Mr. 
Jackson,  the  organist."  He  was  unaffected  in  his  manners,  but  took 
no  pains  to  please  in  company,  and  seemed  indifferent  as  to  what 
impression  he  was  likely  to  make,  as  if  his  opinions  were  settled, 
and  he  was  not  disposed  to  enter  into  any  controversy  in  support  of 
them. 

Mr.  Davy,  a  native  also  of  Exeter,  was  a  man  of  great  musical 
talents,  which  he  discovered  very  early,  and  in  a  singular  manner., 
as  has  been  stated  in  several  accounts.  His  music  to  the  opera  of 
44  The  Blind  Boy"  is  a  striking  proof  of  his  science  and  taste.  I 
became  acquainted  with  him  soon  after  he  came  from  Exeter,  and 
was  settled  in  London,  He  was  a  good  performer  on  the  piano-forte, 
and  an  able  teacher.  When  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  somewhat  of 
a  beau,  and  his  hair  was  always  well  powdered ;  but  he  fell  into  an 
unfortunate  habit  of  drinking,  and  became  at  last  so  negligent  of  his 
person  as  to  be  really  offensive.  Of  course  he  lost  his  scholars, 
particularly  females,  and  was  at  length  reduced  to  very  great  distress, 
and  was  chiefly  supported  by  the  casual  contributions  of  those  ac- 
quaintances whom  he  happened  to  meet,  or  whose  residence  he 
could  discover. 

Musical  professors  in  general  are  very  kind  to  any  of  their 
community  who  are  in  distress,  and  I  have  been  informed  that 
several  of  them  subscribed  to  provide  a  decent  interment  for  poor 
Davy,  otherwise  he  would  probably  have  been  buried  at  the  expense 
^of  the  parish. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

Lord  Bvron.  I  became  acquainted  with  this  nobleman  in  the 
'green-room  of  Drury-lane  theatre,  at  a  time  when  he  was  one  of  the 
committee  of  management,  and,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  I  was 
introduced  to  him  by  Mr.  Douglas  Kinnaird,  who  was  also  a  member 


LORD  BYRON. 


427 


of  the  same  body.  He  had  so  little  the  appearance  of  a  person  above 
the  common  race  of  mankind  that,  as  lawyers  were  concerned  in 
the  affairs  of  that  theatre,  I  took  him  for  one  of  that  profession,  or  a 
clerk ;  nor  when  I  first  saw  his  features,  before  I  was  introduced  to 
him,  did  I  perceive  any  of  that  extraordinary  beauty  which  has  since 
been  ascribed  to  him ;  but  soon  after,  knowing  who  he  was,  and 
gratified  by  the  politeness  of  his  manner,  I  began  to  see  "  Othello's 
visage  in  his  mind,"  and,  if  I  did  not  perceive  the  reported  beauty,  I 
thought  I  saw  striking  marks  of  intelligence,  and  of  those  high  powers 
which  constituted  his  character. 

I  had  but  little  intercourse  with  him  in  the  green-room ;  and  as  a 
proof  how  slight  an  impression  his  features  made  upon  me,  I  was 
sitting  in  one  of  the  boxes  at  the  Haymarket  theatre,  the  partition  of 
the  boxes  only  dividing  me  from  a  person  in  the  next  box,  who  spoke 
to  me,  and  as  I  did  not  know  who  he  was,  he  told  me  he  was  Lord 
Byron.  I  was  much  pleased  with  his  condescension  in  addressing 
me,  though  vexed  that  I  did  not  recollect  him ;  and  I  then  paid 
more  attention  to  him  than  to  the  performance  on  the  stage.  We 
conversed  for  some  time  in  a  low  tone,  that  we  might  not  annoy  the 
people  around  us,  and  I  was  highly  gratified  in  leaving  all  the  talk  to 
his  lordship,  consistent  with  the  necessity  of  an  occasional  answer. 
I  then  took  care  to  examine  his  features  well,  that,  being  near-sighted 
in  some  degree,  I  might  not  forget  him. 

I  still  think  that  the  beauty  of  his  features  has  been  much  ex- 
aggerated, and  that  the  knowledge  of  hiss  intellectual  powers,  as 
manifested  in  his  works,  has  given  an  impression  to  the  mind  of  the 
observer  which  would  not  have  been  made  upon  those  who  saw  him 
without  knowing  him.  The  portraits  by  my  friends  Mr.  Westall  and 
Mr.  Phillips  are  the  best  likenesses  that  I  have  seen  of  him  ;  and  the 
prints  from  other  artists  have  very  little  resemblance,  though  some 
of  them  have  been  confidently  bruited  to  the  world. 

I  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  green-rooms  of  both  theatres,  but 
went  oftener  to  Drury-lane,  in  order  to  cultivate  an  acquaintanceship 
with  Lord  Byron,  who  always  received  me  with  great  kindness  ;  and 
particularly  one  night  when  I  had  returned  from  a  public  dinner 
and  met  him  in  the  green-room,  though  I  had  by  no  means  drunk 
much  wine,  yet,  as  I  seemed  to  him  to  be  somewhat  heated  and 
appeared  to  be  thirsty,  he  handed  me  a  tumbler  of  water,  as  he  said 
to  dilute  me.  Having  a  short  time  before  published  a  small  volume 
of  poems,  I  sent  them  to  his  lordship,  and  in  return  received  the 
following  letter  from  him,  with  four  volumes  of  his  poems,  handsomely 
bound,  all  of  his  works  that  had  been  published  at  that  time.  I  took 
the  first  sentence  of  the  letter  as  a  motto  for  a  collection  of  poems 
which  I  have  since  published. 

"dear  sir, 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  for  a  volume  in  the  good  old  style  of  our 
elders  and  our  betters,  which  I  am  very  glad  to  see  not  yet  extinct. 


428 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


Your  good  opinion  does  me  great  honour,  though  I  am  about  to  risk 
its  loss  by  the  return  I  make  for  your  valuable  present.  With  many 
acknowledgments  for  your  wishes,  and  a  sincere  sense  of  your  kind- 
ness, believe  me, 

"  Your  obliged  and  faithful  servant, 

<;  Byron. 

*  13  Piccadilly  Terrace,  July  23,  1315." 

In  addition  to  this  kind  and  flattering  letter,  his  lordship  inscribed 
the  first  volume  in  the  following  terms  : 

"  To  John  Taylor,  Esq. 
"  With  the  author's  compliments  and  respects, 
"July  23d,  1815." 

His  lordship's  volumes,  his  gratifying  letter,  and  the  kind  attention 
which  I  received  from  him  in  the  green-room  induced  me  to  express 
my  thanks  in  a  complimentary  sonnet  to  him,  which  was  inserted  in 
4<  The  Sun"  newspaper,  of  which  I  was  then  the  proprietor  of  nine- 
tenths.  The  remaining  tenth  share  was  to  belong  to  a  gentleman,, 
■when  the  profits  of  that  share  should  amount  to  a  sum  which  was  the 
assigned  price  of  each  share,  and  at  which  price  I  purchased,  by  de- 
grees, all  my  shares.  By  the  oversight  of  the  attorney  employed,  the 
gentleman  alluded  to,  during  the  previous  proprietorship,  was  invested 
with  the  sole  and  uncontrolled  editorship  of  the  paper,  under  such 
legal  forms  that  even  the  proprietors  could  not  deprive  him  of  his 
authority.  When  the  former  two  proprietors,  of  whom  one  was  the 
founder  of  the  paper,  found  into  what  a  predicament  they  had  been 
thrown,  they  signified  their  wishes  to  withdraw  from  the  concern,  and 
I  purchased  their  respective  shares,  in  addition  to  what  I  had  bought 
before  at  a  considerable  expense,  conceiving  that  the  editor  would 
relax  from  his  authority,  and  that  we  should  proceed  in  harmony  to- 
gether. But  I  was  mistaken,  and  after  much  and  violent  dissension 
between  us,  I  was  at  last  induced  to  offer  him  500/.  to  relinquish  all 
connexion  with  the  paper,  which  sum  he  accepted,  and  it  then  became 
entirely  my  own. 

During  his  control  over  the  paper,  the  day  after  my  sonnet  ad- 
dressed to  Lord  Byron  appeared,  the  editor  thought  proper  to  insert 
a  parody  on  my  lines  in  "  The  Sun"  newspaper,  in  which  he  men- 
tioned Lord  Byron  in  severe  terms,  and  in  one  passage  adverted  to 
Lady  Byron.  Shocked  and  mortified  at  the  insertion  of  this  parody  in 
a  paper  almost  entirely  my  own,  I  wrote  immediately  to  Lord  Byron, 
explaining  my  situation,  and  expressing  my  sincere  regret  that  such 
an  article  had  appeared  in  the  paper,  and  stating  my  inability  to  pre- 
vent  it.  My  letter  produced  the  following  one  from  his  lordship, 
which  I  lent  to  my  friend  Mr.  Moore,  and  which  he  has  inserted  in 
his  admirable  life  of  the  noble  bard. 


LORD  BYRON.  429 

"DEAR  SIR, 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  feel  uneasy  at  what  has  by  no  means 
troubled  me.  If  your  editor,  his  correspondents,  and  readers  are 
amused,  I  have  no  objection  to  be  the  theme  of  all  the  ballads  he  can 
find  room  for,  provided  his  lucubrations  are  confined  to  me  only.  It 
is  a  long  time  since  things  of  this  kind  have  ceased  to  'fright  me  from 
my  propriety,'  nor  do  I  know  any  similar  attack  which  would  induce 
me  to  turn  again,  unless  it  involved  those  connected  with  me,  whose 
qualities,  I  hope,  are  such  as  to  exempt  them,  even  in  the  eyes  of 
those  who  bear  no  good  will  to  myself.  In  such  a  case,  supposing  it 
to  occur,  to  reverse  the  saying  of  Dr.  Johnson,  4  What  the  law  can- 
not do  for  me,  I  would  do  for  myself,'  be  the  consequences  what  they 
might.  I  return  you,  with  many  thanks,  Colman  and  the  letters. 
The  poems  I  hope  you  intend  me  to  keep,  at  least  I  shall  do  so  till 
I  hear  the  contrary. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  Byron. 

1    "  13  Terrace,  Piccadilly,  Sept.  25th,  1815." 

In  a  subsequent  letter  from  his  lordship  to  me,  referring  to  the 
same  subject,  there  is  the  following  postscript.  "  P.S.  Your  best  way 
will  be  to  publish  no  more  eulogies,  except  upon  the  *  elect ;'  or  if 
you  do,  to  let  him  (the  editor)  have  a  previous  copy,  so  that  the  com- 
pliment and  attack  may  appear  together,  which  would,  I  think,  have 
a  good  effect." 

The  last  letter  is  dated  Oct.  27th,  1815,  more  than  a  month  after 
the  other,  so  that  it  is  evident  the  subject  dwelt  upon  his  lordship's 
mind,  though  in  the  postscript  he  has  treated  it  jocularly.  The  let- 
ter dated  Sept.  25th  is  interesting,  because  it  shows,  that  though  his 
lordship  was  indifferent  to  any  attacks  on  himself,  he  was  disposed  to 
come  resolutely,  if  not  rashly,  forward  in  defence  of  Lady  Byron,  of 
whose  amiable  qualities  he  could  not  but  be  deeply  sensible,  and  it  is 
therefore  a  lamentable  consideration,  that  a  separation  should  have 
taken  place  between  persons  so  eminently  qualified  to  promote  the 
happiness  of  each  other. 

Before  her  marriage,  Lady  Byron  was  the  theme  of  universal  esteem 
and  admiration  to  all  who  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with 
her,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  her  matrimonial  state  she  fully 
maintained  her  pretensions  to  the  same  favourable  estimation,  though 
untoward  circumstances,  unfortunately  too  common  in  conjugal  life, 
may  have  occasioned  the  melancholy  event  of  a  separation. 

I  remember  that  soon  after  the  marriage  I  dined  with  Mrs.  Siddons, 
and  I  know  no  person  who  was  better  able  to  appreciate  character, 
and  to  pay  due  homage  to  personal  worth,  than  that  lady.  Referring 
to  the  recent  marriage,  she  said,  «  If  I  had  no  other  reason  to  admire 
the  judgment  and  taste  of  Lord  Byron,  I  should  be  fully  convinced 
of  both  by  his  choice  of  a  wife." 

It  is  impossible  to  review  the  character  and  talents  of  Lord  Byron 

T3 


430 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


without  entertaining  a  high  respect  for  his  memory.  That  he  pos- 
sessed strong  passions  is  too  evident ;  but  tbey  were  accompanied  by 
a  generous  and  forgiving  disposition,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Moore's  valu- 
able life  of  him  demonstrates.  His  poetical  powers,  though  certainly 
of  a  high  order,  have  perhaps,  like  the  beauty  of  his  person,  been  rep- 
resented in  too  favourable  a  light.  They  were  chiefly  of  a  satirical 
&nd  descriptive  kind.  He  could  draw  characters  with  great  force  and 
beauty,  as  well  those  of  masculine  and  ferocious  energy  as  of  female 
softness,  delicacy,  and  exquisite  feeling  ;  but  perhaps  if  we  were  to 
search  in  his  works  for  that  species  of  poetical  excellence  which  is 
denominated  the  sublime,  and  which  is  the  essence  of  true  poetry,  we 
should  be  disappointed. 

I  feel  somewhat  abashed  at  thus  venturing  to  criticise  the  works  of 
so  popular  a  writer ;  but  much  as  I  respect  his  memory,  and  feel  sen- 
sible of  his  kindness  to  me,  I  may  be  permitted  to  express  my  opin- 
ion, considering  the  high  reputation  which  he  acquired,  and  the  great 
poets  who  do  honour  to  the  literary  character  of  the  country,  and 
whose  names  seem  to  have  sunk  into  comparative  oblivion. 

As  Lord  Byron  made  so  conspicuous  a  figure  in  society,  and  will 
always  remain  so  in  the  literary  world,  it  may  not  he  an  incurious 
speculation  to  reflect  on  what  he  might  have  been  if  he  had  not  been 
born  to  rank  and  affluence.  That  he  possessed  great  poetical  talents, 
nobody  can  deny  ;  and  it  must  be  equally  admitted  that  he  was  born 
with  strong  passions.  It  is  hardly  to  be  doubted,  that  whatever  had 
been  the  condition  of  his  parents,  they  would  have  discovered  un- 
common qualities  of  mind  in  him,  and  would  have  afforded  him  as 
good  an  education  as  their  means  would  have  allowed.  Born  in  hum- 
ble life,  he  would  not  have  been  exposed  to  the  flattery  of  sycophants, 
which  always  surround  the  inheritor  of  title  and  wealth,  and  his 
talents  would  have  taken  the  direction  which  nature  might  have  sug- 
gested, and  his  passions  have  been  restrained  from  extravagance  and 
voluptuousness.  He  would  have  been  free  from  the  provocation  of 
captious  criticism,  and  therefore  would  probably  have  employed  his 
muse  in  description,  sentiment,  and  reflection,  rather  than  in  satire 
and  licentiousness. 

That  Lord  Byron  was  generous  and  affectionate,  is  evident  from. 
Mr.  Moore's  masterly  biographical  work ;  and  this  temper,  influ- 
enced by  his  situation  among  persons  in  ordinary  life,  would  probably 
have  operated  with  benevolence  and  philanthropy.  His  faults  may 
therefore  be  conceived  to  have  been  the  consequence  of  the  rank  in 
which  he  was  born,  and  the  allurements,  as  well  as  provocations,  to 
which  he  was  exposed.  It  has  been  said  that  the  deformity  of  his  foot 
contributed  to  sour  his  temper;  but  if  he  had  been  obliged  to  support 
himself  by  his  talents,  his  chagrin  on  that  account  might  have  passed 
from  him  "  like  dew-drops  from  the  lion's  mane."  In  my  opinion 
Lord  Byron  was  naturally  a  kind,  good-hearted,  and  liberal-minded 
man  ;  and,  as  far  as  he  was  otherwise,  it  was  the  unavoidable  result  of 
tbe  rank  to  which  he  was  born,  and  its  incidental  temptations. 


THE  EARL  OF  ELDON. 


431 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

The  Earl  of  Eldon.  The  first  time  that  I  had  the  honour  of 
being  introduced  to  this  venerable  nobleman  was  when  he  was  Mr. 
Scott,  an  eminent  barrister,  and  so  easy  and  unaffected  in  his  manners 
that  he  was  generally  designated  with  the  name  of  Jack  Scott  by  his 
brethren  of  the  bar.  His  early  friend,  Mr.  Richard  Wilson,  for  some 
reason  generally  styled  Dick  Wilson,  gave  a  dinner,  and  by  desire  of 
Mr.  Alderman  Skinner,  Mr.  Scott,  and  Mr.  Joseph  Richardson  were 
particularly  invited,  and  I  was  one  of  the  party,  with  other  friends. 
The  object  of  Mr.  Skinner  was,  if  possible,  to  engage  Mr.  Scott  and 
Mr.  Richardson  to  take  opposite  sides  in  any  subject  that  might  happen 
to  occur,  though  it  was  hardly  possible,  considering  the  rate  of  Mr. 
Skinner's  intellects,  and  the  extent  of  his  attainments,  that  he  was 
likely  to  derive  much  advantage  from  the  controversy,  if  it  happened 
to  fall  within  the  reach  of  his  capacity. 

Mr.  Richardson  had  been  let  into  the  secret,  and  therefore,  before 
the  company  assembled,  Mr.  Richardson  took  me  aside,  complimented 
me  on  my  prolific  power  of  talking  nonsense,  and  requested  that  I 
would  endeavour,  by  the  introduction  of  any  flippant  facetiousness,  to 
prevent  the  expected  disputation,  observing  that  Mr.  Scott  was  a 
practised  logician,  and  likely  to  be  the  conqueror  if  a  difference  of 
opinion  should  arise ;  but  it  was  probable  that  they  might  concur  in 
sentiment,  and  that  at  all  events,  as  the  meeting  was  for  the  purpose 
of  general  good-humour,  it  would  be  absurd  to  introduce  topics  in  the 
discussion  of  which  the  company  in  general  were  not  likely  to  engage. 
I  endeavoured  to  justify  my  friend  Richardson's  compliment  on  my 
genius  for  nonsense,  succeeded  in  spreading  harmless  merriment,  and 
thereby  obviated  all  prospect  of  controversial  emulation.  But  this 
state  of  things  interfered  so  much  with  the  worthy  alderman's  design, 
that  he  took  me  aside,  told  me  that  as  I  was  a  young  man  just  entering 
into  the  world,  and  as  he  had  risen  to  a  distinguished  station  in  society, 
it  might  be  in  his  power  to  render  me  service ;  he  then  unfolded  the 
object  of  the  meeting,  which  he  requested  I  would  endeavour  to  for- 
ward, rather  than  retard,  and  assured  me  that,  by  the  contention  be- 
tween two  such  able  men  as  Mr.  Scott  and  Mr.  Richardson,  I  should 
improve  by  their  respective  arguments.  I  affected  to  assent,  but,  not 
being  ambitious  of  the  patronage  of  the  civic  sage,  I  soon  resumed 
the  same  flippant  gayety,  and  being  a  bit  of  a  singer  in  those  days, 
gave  the  company  a  Bacchanalian  air,  which,  on  account  of  its  jovial 
sentiments,  not  my  musical  merit,  was  encored,  and  such  a  spirit  of 
eonvivial  merriment  ensued,  that  the  worthy  magistrate  gave  up  all 
hopes  of  argu mental  improvement  in  despair,  and  retired.  The  rest 
of  the  company  followed  him  by  degrees,  and  at  length  nobody  was  left 
but  Mr.  Scott,  myself,  and  our  hospitable  landlord. 


432 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


I  remember  that,  inspired  by  Bacchus,  rather  than  by  the  Cumaean 
sybil,  as  Mr.  Scott  sat  on  a  sofa,  I  felt  a  prophetic  glow,  and  said, 
u  There  sits  an  embryo  chancellor."  Mr.  Scott  laughed  at  my  jovial 
prediction,  and  required  a  repetition  of  my  song :  and,  as  Mr.  Wilson 
tells  me,  for  I  confess  I  recollect  no  more,  Mr.  Scott  arose  from  the 
sofa,  and  placing  himself  at  the  door,  declared  that  I  should  not  de- 
part till  I  had  repeated  the  song.  From  that  time  the  noble  lord  has 
favoured  me  with  his  kind  attention,  and  when  I  have  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  him,  has  sometimes  referred  to  our  merry  meeting, 
and  my  prophetic  inspiration. 

Often  has  he  favoured  me  with  his  arm  when  we  happened  to  be 
walking  the  same  way ;  and  I  must  indulge  myself  in  the  pride  of 
stating  that  in  the  tea-room,  where  the  company  assembled  after  the 
last  celebration,  in  18*29,  of  Mr.  Pitt's  birth-day,  he  greeted  me  with 
his  usual  kindness,  and  said  in  the  hearing  of  the  company,  that  he 
should  be  glad  to  see  me  whenever  I  would  call  upon  him.  His 
noble  brother,  Lord  Stowell,  whom  I  had  first  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing at  the  elegant  table  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  has  honoured  me 
ever  since  witli  the  same  condescending  affability;  and  it  is  with 
pride  and  gratitude  I  add  that  they  were  both  liberal  subscribers  to 
the  volumes  of  poems  which  I  published  by  the  advice  and  under 
the  patronage  of  a  numerous  host  of  subscribers,  many  of  whom 
wrere  of  high  rank,  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Sussex  at  the 
head,  and  the  whole  list  constituting  such  an  honourable  testimony 
in  favour  of  my  character,  as  might,  in  a  great  degree,  compensate 
for  the  frowns  of  fortune. 

The  Earl  of  Coventry.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  ranking 
this  nobleman  among  my  early  friends,  and  many  happy  days  have 
I  passed  at  his  hospitabletable,  in  company  with  his  amiable  count- 
ess, their  accomplished  daughters,  and  the  lively  and  intelligent  male 
branches  of  the  family.  My  first  acquaintance  with  his  lordship  was 
within  a  few  years  after  he  was  deprived  of  sight.  He  consulted 
my  father,  the  most  eminent  oculist  of  his  day,  but  the  case  unfor- 
tunately admitted  not  of  a  remedy,  and  his  lordship  has  uniformly 
borne  this  lamentable  deprivation  with  philosophic  fortitude  and 
resignation. 

Lord  Coventry  was  educated  at  Westminster  school,  and  when 
Dr.  Smith,  then  head-master,  was  asked  who  had  been  the  most 
promising  of  his  scholars  in  his  time,  he  said  that  he  could  have  no 
doubt  or  hesitation  in  saying  the  Earl  of  Coventry,  then  Lord  Deer- 
hurst.  The  chief  amusement  of  the  noble  lord,  since  his  unfortunate 
loss  of  sight,  has  been  the  composition  of  Latin  verses,  and  in  trans- 
lating English  poetry  into  the  Latin  language. 

Mr.  Samuel  Foote.  This  celebrated  character,  who  was  con- 
spicuous as  an  author  as  well  as  an  actor,  figured  on  the  stage  of  life 
before  I  became  at  all  connected  with  the  theatrical  world,  except 
as  a  mere  spectator.  I  have,  however,  often  seen  him  act,  and  have 
a  full  recollection  of  his  manner.  He  performed  the  characters 
written  by  and  for  himself  in  his  own  dramas  with  admirable  humour 


SAMUEL  FOOTE. 


433 


and  effect,  and  far  beyond  any  of  his  successors,  though  some  of 
them,  particularly  the  elder  Bannister,  imitated  his  manner  with  great 
success.  His  voice  was  harsh  and  unequal,  and  if  now  imitated  in 
private  life,  it  would  be  difficult  to  believe  that  it  ever  could  have 
been  endured  on  the  stage  ;  but  the  public  had  been  used  to  it,  and 
his  intrepid  confidence  and  spirit  were  powerfully  effective. 

I  have  seen  him  perform  Fondlewife  in  "  The  Old  Bachelor,"  and 
Gomez  in  "  The  Spanish  Friar  ;"  but  his  manner  was  by  no  means 
suited  to  the  regular  drama,  though  his  good  sense  and  broad 
humour  rendered  him  very  entertaining.  He  was  vain,  and  always 
wished  to  be  more  forward  on  the  stage  than  any  of  his  fellow-per- 
formers ;  and  as  he  was  the  manager,  they  of  course  submitted  to 
appear  rather  in  the  background.  If  he  had  not  possessed  so  much 
dramatic  ability,  and  the  stage  had  been  his  only  resource,  he  must 
have  been  contented  with  a  very  subordinate  situation  on  the  public 
boards,  if,  indeed,  he  had  been  tolerated  at  all. 

I  have  been  surprised  that  my  old  friend  Arthur  Murphy  should 
have  entertained  so  high  an  opinion  of  Foote  as  a  wit,  since  there 
are  very  few  proofs  of  such  original  jocularity  as  might  be  expected, 
considering  he  had  acquired  so  high  a  reputation  for  bons  mots  and 
repartees.  I  have  often  wished  there  had  been  some  record  of  that 
facetious  fecundity  which  rendered  Foote's  conversational  powers  so 
entertaining  to  people  of  all  ranks,  for  those  sallies  of  his  inexhaustible 
humour  which  have  reached  public  notice,  by  no  means  afford  such 
samples  of  original  wit  as  to  give  adequate  support  to  his  high  repu- 
tation ;  and  I  conceive  that  his  dramatic  works  may  be  considered  as 
the  chief  foundation  of  his  intellectual  character.  For  my  part,  such 
has  been  my  ill-luck,  that  I  have  been  generally  disappointed  when  I 
have  come  into  the  company  of  professed  wits. 

Mr.  Murphy  never  used  to  mention  him  without  styling  him  the 
great,  the  famous,  or  the  celebrated  Mr.  Foote ;  and  we  also  find 
these  epithets  applied  to  him  by  Mr.  Murphy  in  his  Life  of  Garrick, 
Mr.  Murphy  had  often  signified  his  intention  to  write  a  life  of  Foote, 
and  during  my  long  intimacy  with  him  I  have  heard  him  repeat  all 
the  bons  mots  and  odd  remarks  of  this  "  Mr.  Merryman."  Well  re- 
membering these  good  things,  as  they  were  deemed,  I  communicated 
them  to  my  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  the  barrister,  who  had  collected  many 
more,  and  who  has  since  given  them  to  the  public  in  his  Life  of 
Foote.  I  have  recently  looked  over  them,  in  order  to  see  if  I  could 
recover  any  of  them  for  my  own  use,  but  did  not  think  them  worth 
the  transfer. 

It  was  Foote's  constant  aim  to  make  the  servants  leave  the  room 
laughing,  wherever  he  visited  ;  and  it  may  easily  be  conceived  that 
the  jokes  must  be  of  a  very  coarse  nature  that  were  inspired  by  such 
a  grovelling  ambition.  Soon  after  he  became  settled,  he  sent  for  his 
wife,  from  whom  he  had  been  separated  many  years,  and  desired 
Mr.  Costello,  an  actor  who  valued  himself  upon  his  skill  as  a  driver, 
to  bring  her  in  a  one-horse  chaise,  a  common  vehicle  at  that  time,  to 
his  house  at  Blackheath.    Costello,  with  all  his  skill,  overturned  the 


434 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


chaise,  and  poor  Mrs.  Foote  fell  with  her  face  upon  some  hard  gravel, 
which  disfigured  her  so  much  that  she  was  obliged  to  put  on  a 
veil. 

When  the  company  who  were  expected  to  dinner  arrived,  Foote 
told  them  of  her  disaster,  and  sacrificing  humanity  and  even  decency 
for  a  joke,  pulled  aside  her  veil,  and  said  he  would  show  them  "  a 
map  of  the  world."  He  then  said,  pointing  to  the  several  bruises  on 
her  face,  "  There  is  the  yellow  Ganges,  here  is  the  Red  Sea  f  and, 
sifter  more  allusions  of  the  same  kind,  concluded  with  touching  her 
forehead,  and  adding,  "  Here  are  the  rocks  of  Scilly." 

A  day  or  two  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  dined  with  a  party, 
and  affected  to  weep  for  his  loss ;  but  his  weeping  was  intended 
to  have  a  ludicrous  effect  upon  the  servants,  and  to  complete  the 
joke  he  said  that  he  had  been  all  the  morning  seeking  for  "  a 
second-hand  coffin  to  bury  her  in."  This  declaration  was  irresistible 
upon  the  servants,  and  having  thus  accomplished  his  purpose,  he  was 
as  facetious  as  ever  through  the  remainder  of  the  day. 

These  may  be  considered  as  samples  of  his  general  pretensions  to 
*Tie  character  of  a  wit.  Yet  he  must  have  had  some  power  of  di- 
verting, since  even  Dr.  Johnson,  in  spite  of  his  predetermination  to 
maintain  a  sullen  silence,  was  obliged  to  give  way  to  Foote's  over- 
bearing * 1  broad-faced"  merriment. 

Dr.  Johnson  having  heard  that  Foote  had  called  him  "  a  learned 
Hottentot,"  the  doctor  in  return  styled  him  "  a  pleasant  villain." 

That  Foote  was  a  good  scholar  was  universally  admitted,  and  a 
good  dramatic  writer  must  also  be  acknowledged ;  but  his  works 
were  chiefly  attractive  from  their  impudent  personality,  and  his 
whimsical  exhibition  of  characters  drawn  by  himself,  and  for  his  own 
peculiar  talents. 

I  was  surprised  also  that  there  should  have  been  so  great  an 
intimacy  between  Murphy  and  Foote,  considering  the  difference  of 
their  characters.  Murphy  was  very  grave,  and  never  attempted 
wit,  but  was  successful  in  relating  the  wit  of  others.  Foote  was 
never  grave,  but  always  on  the  watch  for  something  to  excite  a  jest ; 
and  as  he  had  no  regard  for  friendship,  morality,  or  decency,  Murphy 
must  have  been  his  butt  as  well  as  all  his  other  friends. 

I  believe  that  Mr.  Murphy  relinquished  the  intention  to  write 
Foote's  life,  on  account  of  the  charge  that  was  brought  against  him, 
for  I  have  heard  him  say  that  he  believed  Foote  was  guilty.  He 
added,  that  it  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  get  over ;  "  but,"  said  he, 
"  if  I  should  ever  write  his  life,  I  should  be  contented  with  saying, 
that  he  was  acquitted  by  a  jury  of  his  countrymen."  The  life,  how- 
ever, has  been  ably  written  by  Mr.  Cooke,  who  has  brought  forward 
every  thing  that  could  tend  to  do  honour  to  his  hero,  but  has  still 
supported  his  own  character  as  an  impartial  biographer. 

Foote's  manner  of  relating  a  humorous  story,  with  his  powers  of 
mimicry,  must  doubtless  have  been  very  entertaining  to  those  who 
were  not  too  refined  for  fun,  or  too  delicate  for  buffoonery.  Mr. 
Murphy  used  to  relate  the  following  story  of  Foote's,  the  heroines  of 


SAMUEL  FOOTE*— WILLIAM  COOKE,  ESQ. 


435 


which  were  the  Ladies  Cheere,  Fielding,  and  Hill,  the  last  the  widow 
of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Hill.  He  represented  them  as  playing  at  "  I 
love  my  love  with  a  letter."  Lady  Cheere  began  and  said,  "  I  love 
my  love  with  an  N,  because  he  is  a  Night Lady  Fielding  followed 
with  "  I  love  my  love  with  a  G,  because  he  is  a  Gustis  ;  and  "  I  love 
my  love  with  an  F,"  said  Lady  Hill,  "  because  he  is  a  Fizishun." 
Such  was  the  imputed  orthography  of  these  learned  ladies. 

Foote  never  was  able  to  bear  the  charge  that  was  brought  against 
him,  which  certainly  hastened  his  end ;  for  though  he  affected  to  keep 
up  his  spirits,  on  his  return  to  the  stage  Mr.  Cooke  says  that  he 
exhibited  a  lamentable  decay,  both  in  mind  and  person.  Peace 
.to  his  manes  ! 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

William  Cooke,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  whom  I  have  mentioned 
in  the  previous  article,  was  one  of  my  early  friends.  He  came  from 
Cork,  after  having  been  engaged  in  a  mercantile  concern  contrary  to 
his  inclination,  and  arrived  in  London  in  the  year  1766.  He  was 
married  when  very  young  to  a  lady  rather  older  than  himself,  who 
possessed  good  property,  but,  as  they  mixed  in  all  the  gayeties  of 
fashionable  life,  it  was  soon  dissipated.  The  lady  lived  about  two 
years  after  the  marriage ;  and  his  purpose  in  visiting  London,  soon 
after  her  death,  was  to  adopt  the  profession  of  the  law.  He  entered 
himself  of  the  Middle  Temple,  and  in  due  time  was  called  to  the 
bar ;  but  finding  little  encouragement  to  pursue  the  profession  which 
he  had  chosen,  wholly  devoted  himself  to  the  labours  of  the  pen. 
He  had  brought  from  Ireland  letters  of  recommendation  to  Dr. 
Goldsmith,  to  Edmund  Burke,  and  his  brother  Richard.  With  Dr. 
Goldsmith  he  retained  an  intimacy  till  the  death  of  that  excellent 
writer ;  but  notwithstanding  his  high  admiration  of  Edmund  Burke's 
powers,  he  had  no  confidence  in  his  integrity,  or  thas  of  his  brother 
Richard,  and  having  been  nearly  involved  in  a  heavy  debt  by  the 
latter,  he  did  not  cultivate  a  connexion  with  either. 

Mr.  Cooke's  first  publication  was  a  poem  entitled  "  The  Art  of 
Living  in  London,"  which  contained  a  good  description  of  the  man- 
ners of  the  time,  and  some  useful  precepts  for  avoiding  its  dangers. 
His  friend  Goldsmith  supplied  the  title  of  this  poem  and  revised  the 
whole.  It  was  very  successful,  and  soon  went  through  a  second 
edition.  He  then  published  a  work,  entitled  "  Elements  of  Dramatic 
Criticism,"  and  wrote  many  political  pamphlets,  under  the  patronage 
of  the  Duke  of  Richmond  and  Lord  Shelburn,  afterward  Marquis  of 
Lansdowne. 

Mr.  Cooke  was  well  acquainted  with  the  chief  wits  of  the  time ; 


436 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  when  Dr.  Johnson  formed  his  Essex-street  club,  he  nominated 
Mr.  Cooke  as  the  first  member. 

Mr.  Cooke  was  employed  in  reporting  the  debates  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  in  the  India  House,  for  the  public  journals.  He  was 
also  a  theatrical  reporter,  and  became  a  proprietor  in  a  daily  news- 
paper, but  soon  sold  his  share  from  a  conviction  of  the  uncertainty 
of  that  kind  of  property.  He  was  married  to  his  second  wife  before 
I  became  acquainted  with  him.  She  was  a  handsome  and  very- 
amiable  lady.  By  her  he  had  fifteen  children,  but  most  of  them  died 
young  ;  the  last  a  daughter,  who  reached  her  fifteenth  year,  and  then 
sunk  into  the  grave  with  the  rest. 

Mr.  Cooke  was  a  warm  friend  of  Mrs.  Abington.  He  altered  for 
her  the  comedy  of  "  The  Capricious  Lady,"  originally  written  by 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  she  increased  her  reputation  by  appear- 
ing as  the  heroine  of  the  piece.  By  his  connexion  with  the  public 
press,  he  was  able  to  give  support  to  her  professional  exertions. 
Mrs.  Abington  was  much  alive  to  public  notice,  and  peculiarly  fear- 
ful of  critical  censure. 

Mr.  Cooke's  last  work  was  a  didactic  poem,  entitled  "Conversation," 
in  which  he  enumerates  the  merits  and  defects  of  colloquial  inter- 
course, with  critical  acumen,  and  knowledge  of  mankind.  This  poem 
he  dedicated  to  his  old  friend  John  Symmons,  Esq.  of  Paddington, 
whose  character  he  introduced  under  the  name  of  Florio.  I  had  for 
many  years  the  pleasure  of  being  intimate  with  Mr.  Symmons  ;  and 
a  more  liberal,  elegant,  and  hospitable  character  never  existed.  He 
is  still  alive,  at  a  very  advanced  age,  and  with  a  reverse  of  fortune, 
which  all  who  knew  him  must  deeply  regret ;  as  it  was  chiefly  the 
result  of  the  generosity,  I  may  say,  the  magnificence  of  his  mind, 
his  confidence  in  false  friends,  and  an  incautious  disposal  of  his  prop- 
erty. He  found  it  necessary  to  leave  England,  and  I  fear  is  in- 
volved in  the  unhappy  events  which  now  overwhelm  the  Netherlands, 
to  which  country  he  has  retired,  and  where  he  intended  to  pass  the 
remainder  of  his  life. 

The  Rev.  Charles  Symmons,  D.D.  This  gentleman  was  the 
brother  of  the  respected  friend  whom  I  have  just  mentioned.  His 
learning  and  poetical  talents  are  so  well  known,  that  it  would  be  pre- 
sumptuous in  me  to  pay  homage  to  merits  generally  acknowledged, 
and  which  I  cannot  pretend  to  appreciate.  I  was  introduced  to  him 
at  the  hospitable  table  of  his  brother,  and  have  been  very  often  a 
happy  guest  at  his  own.  He  was  a  friend  to  mankind,  but  perhaps, 
considering  his  sacred  calling,  too  free  in  the  manifestation  of  his 
political  principles.  These  principles  are  evident  in  his  "Life  of 
Milton."  and  in  his  other  works.  They  were  also  avowed  in  ser- 
mons which  he  delivered  from  the  pulpit.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  he  wished  for  a  republic,  for  he  was  firmly  attached  to  the 
British  constitution,  and  proud  of  the  friendship  of  His  Royal  High- 
ness the  Duke  of  Sussex,  who  may  justly  be  ranked  among  the 
friends  of  mankind,  as  well  as  an  admirer  of  that  unrivalled  consti- 
tution which  seated  his  family  on  the  throne  of  this  country. 


REV.  DR.  SYMMONS. 


437 


The  late  Mr.  Windham  was  a  friend  of  Dr.  Symmons,  and  was 
anxious  to  advance  him  in  the  church ;  but  the  doctor's  open  avowal 
of  his  political  principles  prevented  Mr.  Windham  from  being  as 
active  in  his  cause  as  he  expected,  and  in  consequence  a  languor  fell 
upon  their  friendship.  The  doctor's  pretensions  to  preferment  were 
of  the  most  solid  kind,  in  point  of  learning  and  moral  conduct ;  and 
he  might  have  been  raised  to  high  ecclesiastical  dignities  if  he  had 
not  been  so  solicitous  to  appear  as  a  patriot  and  a  politician.  He 
published  a  volume  of  poems,  written  by  himself  and  one  of  his 
daughters,  who  died  in  the  bloom  of  life,  and  which  are  highly- 
creditable  to  the  taste  and  genius  of  both. 

His  translation  of  the  "iEneid,"  a  work  of  great  learning  and 
poetical  merit,  was  first  published  in  a  quarto  volume,  but  soon 
reached  to  a  second  edition,  which  appeared  in  two  volumes  octavo. 
He  paid  me  the  unmerited  compliment  of  sending  to  me  the  proofs 
of  every  book,  as  they  came  from  the  press,  of  which  I  did  not  pre- 
sume to  judge  as  a  translation,  but  merely  ventured  occasionally  to 
suggest  some  alterations  in  the  English  version.  When  the  second 
edition  was  published,  I  introduced  a  succession  of  observations  on 
the  whole  in  "  The  Sun"  newspaper,  of  which  I  was  then  the  pro- 
prietor. These  observations  were  so  satisfactory  to  the  doctor  as  to 
excite  such  a  tribute  of  gratitude  as  I  am  at  once  proud  and  ashamed 
to  record.  Yet  I  might  well  be  suspected  of  false  modesty  if  I  were 
to  suppress  such  a  testimony  in  my  favour  from  so  distinguished  a 
scholar  and  so  excellent  a  poet.  I  shall  therefore  venture  to  insert 
the  conclusion  of  the  preface  to  the  second  edition  of  his  translation 
of  the  "  iEneid,"  regretting  that  I  do  not  deserve  such  commenda- 
tion, yet  highly  gratified  at  having  received  so  honourable  and  flatter- 
ing a  tribute  of  partial  friendship. 

After  having  referred  to  the  charge  brought  against  him  by  certain 
critics,  who  had  spoken  unfavourably  of  his  work,  of  having  Latinized 
too  much,  he  concludes  in  the  following  words  : — "  But  I  must  with- 
draw even  from  the  shadow  of  controversy  the  remaining  portion  of 
my  small  sheet  (the  preface),  that  I  may  consecrate  it  to  the  better 
feelings  of  my  heart.  Let  me  now,  then,  say  that  there  is  a  public 
writer,  of  extended  celebrity  throughout  the  political  and  the  literary 
world,  to  whom  my  thankfulness  is  largely  due,  and  to  whom  I  am 
happy  in  this  opportunity  of  avowing  the  magnitude  of  my  obligation. 
Acquainted  with  me,  originally,  by  my  publications,  and  conciliated 
by  his  partial  estimation  of  their  merits,  the  proprietor  of  "  The  Sun" 
paper  has  uniformly  encouraged  me  with  his  plaudit ;  and  in  the  cir- 
culation of  his  popular  pages  my  name  has  been  agitated  into  life. 
Unfeed  and  unsolicited,  without  the  hope  of  any  other  recompense 
than  that  which  he  derived  from  his  own  approbation ;  and,  let  me 
add,  with  a  high  disdain  of  that  party  spirit  w7hich  in  these  bad  days 
has  arrayed  man  against  man,  and  torn  brother  from  brother,  he  has 
devoted,  not  his  paragraphs,  but  his  columns,  to  the  display  of  my 
poor  muse  ;  and  has  hazarded  the  established  reputation  of  his  own 


438 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


literary  judgment,  while  he  has  been  placing  wreaths  upon  her  un- 
respected  brow.    For  all  this  kindness, 

 •  Grates  persolvere  dignas 

Non  opis  est  nostrse.' 

"  If  in  the  train  of  the  Mantuan  Bard  I  could  hope  to  visit  pos- 
terity, it  would  be  gratifying  to  think  that,  by  eyes  yet  withheld  by 
interposing  centuries  from  the  light,  this  small  record  of  my  gratitude 
would  be  read,  and  the  name  of  John  Taylor  be  seen  thus  closely 
associated  with  that  of 

"  Charles  Symmons. 

"  March  20,  1820." 

There  are  several  living  friends  whom  I  would  introduce  with 
pleasure  in  this  work,  but  as  justice  and  gratitude  might  be  imputed 
to  very  different  motives,  I  fear  to  mention  them  ;  I  cannot,  however, 
deny  myself  the  gratification  of  acknowledging  the  kindness  of  John 
Soane,  Esq.,'  the  celebrated  architect,  and  of  Prince  Hoare,  Esq. ; 
who  kindly  came  forward  to  cheer  me  in  the  time  of  unexpected 
adversity,  and  manifested  such  condoling  sympathy  and  such  zealous 
friendship,  as  I  must  always  gratefully  remember,  though  I  can  never 
hope  to  return. 

The  present  work  has  been  written  in  a  desultory  manner,  with 
several  intervals  occasioned  by  illness,  which,  at  one  time,  was  of  so 
alarming  a  description  that  my  friend  Mr.  Cooke,  and  another  emi- 
nent surgeon,  thought  it  hardly  possible  that  I  should  recover.  I 
might  easily  have  extended  it,  but  was  tired  of  the  task,  and  was 
urged  to  conclude  it  by  my  friends,  who  cherished  such  hopes  of  its 
success  as  I  fear  will  be  disappointed.  I  am  now  at  a  very  advanced 
age,  and  though  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  my  mind  has  de- 
cayed as  well  as  my  corporeal  strength,  yet  I  cannot  help  agreeing 
with  the  opinion  of  David  Hume,  who  says,  "  I  consider  that  a  man 
at  sixty-five,  by  dying,  cuts  off  only  a  few  years  of  infirmities  f  and 
if  it  had  been  my  fate  to  leave  the  world  at  that  period  of  my  life,  I 
should  not  only  have  escaped  infirmities,  but  disappointments,  vex- 
ations, and  sorrows. 

To  borrow  the  words  of  Dr.  Johnson,  in  the  last  paper  of  his  ad- 
mirable Rambler,  "that  the  same  sentiments  have  not  sometimes 
recurred,  or  the  same  expressions  been  too  frequently  repeated,  I 
have  not  confidence  in  my  abilities  sufficient  to  warrant."  And 
indeed,  such  must  inevitably  be  the  case  ;  for  I  am  not  to  coin  words, 
and  if  I  am  describing  tempers,  qualities,  talents,  and  persons  of  a 
similar  nature,  I  must  of  course  make  use  of  similar  epithets  and 
forms  of  expression. 


DR.  ARNOLD. 


439 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

Dr.  Arnold.  The  name  of  Colman  leads  me  to  our  old  friend, 
who  was  so  long  an  ornament  of  the  musical  world,  and,  by  the 
general  estimation  of  his  professional  merits,  was  a  man  of  great 
genius,  as  well  as  profound  in  musical  science.  In  private  life  he 
was  humorous,  intelligent,  and  convivial.  Our  acquaintance  began 
so  early  in  my  life  that  I  cannot  recollect  its  origin.  His  numerous 
musical  works  sufficiently  attest  his  genius  and  his  knowledge.  The 
first  production,  I  believe,  which  brought  his  talents  into  notice  was 
a  song,  which  began  "  If  'tis  joy  to  wound  a  lover."  These  words 
were  adapted  to  so  lively  an  air  that  it  was  on  everybody's  tongue, 
and  was  printed  on  ladies'  fans  and  many  other  articles  likely  to 
extend  its  popularity. 

Dr.  Arnold  was  well  acquainted  with  the  world,  and  always  took 
an  active,  spirited,  and  agreeable  part  in  conversation.  1  was  once 
happy  enough  to  be  instrumental  in  removing  a  slight  but  temporary 
difference  between  him  and  his  friend  Colman.  This  transient 
pause  in  their  friendship  was  occasioned  by  the  introduction  of  Mr. 
Storace  into  the  Haymarket  theatre  as  the  composer  of  "  The  Iron 
Chest,"  Dr.  Arnold  having  for  many  years  been  the  settled  composer 
for  that  house.  The  doctor  consulted  me  on  the  subject,  and  con- 
descended to  adopt  my  advice,  when  cordiality  was  soon  restored 
between  the  two  friends. 

Dr.  Arnold  introduced  me  to  Sir  John  Oldmixon,  grandson  of  the 
famous  Mr.  Oldmixon,  the  bitter  adversary  of  Pope,  and  victim  of 
the  relentless  poet.  Sir  John  and  I  became  very  intimate,  and  he 
introduced  me  to  his  mother  at  Cheshunt.  Miss  Oldmixon  had 
married  a  Mr.  Morella,  a  musician,  who  died  and  left  one  son,  who 
was  in  due  time  an  officer  in  the  army.  As  the  Oldmixons  were  an 
ancient  family  who  gave  their  name  to  a  town,  young  Morella  ob- 
tained permission  to  change  his  to  that  of  his  grandfather,  and  was 
knighted  (I  believe)  by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  when  viceroy  in 
Ireland. 

Sir  John  was  a  lively  companion,  and  inherited  his  father's  love  of 
music,  performing  tolerably  well  on  the  violin.  His  mother  was  tall 
and  stately,  and  had  doubtless  been  a  fine  woman.  Her  manners 
were  very  courteous,  but  had  something  of  the  formality  of  Queen 
Anne's  court. 

Pope  became  the  subject  of  conversation,  and  I  was  surprised  to 
find  her  speak  with  so  much  liberality  of  a  man  who  had  been  so 
bitter  an  enemy  of  her  father.  I  stopped  but  one  night  with  them 
at  Cheshunt,  and"  never  saw  her  afterward.  I  heard  no  tradition 
respecting  either  Pope  or  her  father. 


440 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


Sir  John  had  figured  among  the  beau  monde  at  Bath,  where  his 
figure  was  introduced  in  a  print  called  "  The  Long  Dance and 
also  at  Brighton,  where  he  was  first  noticed  by  his  late  majesty  when 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  distinguished  among  some  amateur  actors  of 
the  higher  orders.  He  afterward  married  Miss  George,  an  actress 
and  singer  of  the  Haymarket  theatre.  They  subsequently  went  to 
America,  where  she  displayed  her  theatrical  talents  ;  and  he  who 
had  been  so  great  a  beau  in  this  country  turned  market-gardener  in 
America,  and  used  to  drive  his  own  cart,  with  vegetables,  to  the 
market,  dropping  his  knighthood.  I  understood  that,  in  consequence 
of  his  wife's  conduct,  he  obtained  a  divorce.  He  returned  to  this 
country,  and  eagerly  renewed  his  intercourse  with  me  ;  but  after 
two  or  three  meetings  at  a  tavern,  and  one  in  the  street,  I  saw  him 
no  more,  and  never  heard  what  had  become  of  him. 

To  return  to  my  friend  Dr.  Arnold :  1  lost  in  him  an  agreeable 
old  friend,  who,  however,  had  introduced  his  son  to  me  when  just 
passed  his  "  boyish  days,"  and  whose  talents  are  too  well  known  to 
require  more  from  me  than  to  say  that  I  consider  him  as  a  legacy  of 
friendship,  which  I  shall  always  value  on  his  own  account,  as  well 
as  for  the  respect  which  I  bear  to  the  memory  of  his  father. 

William  Gifford,  Esq.  Considering  my  long  friendship  with 
this  gentleman,  which  subsisted  for  upwards  of  forty  years,  it  would 
be  strange,  indeed,  if  I  did  not  give  him  a  place  in  the  account  of  my 
recollections.  He  has  given  so  interesting  and  affecting  a  history  of 
his  life,  that  nothing  can  be  added  to  that  narrative  of  his  early  diffi- 
culties, and  the  manner  in  which  they  were  surmounted. 

I  was  first  introduced  to  him  by  the  Rev.  William  Peters,  R.A. 
and  chaplain  to  the  Royal  Academy.  Unfortunately  a  difference 
arose  between  these  old  friends,  which  was  followed  by  mutual  and 
unappeasable  hostility.  Mr.  Peters,  as  I  have  before  stated,  accused 
GifFord  of  having  supplanted  him  in  the  favour  of  the  late  Lord 
Grosvenor,  and  as  GifFord  soon  after  formed  an  intimacy  with  Mr. 
Hoppner  the  artist,  the  cause  of  enmity  was  increased  by  rivalry  in 
the  arts.  It  may  be  said  of  GifFord,  as  of  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  that  he 
was 

The  best  good  man  with  the  worst-natured  muse  ; 

and  also,  as  Pope  says  of  himself,  that  his  life  was  a  ec  a  long  disease," 
for  he  had  a  feeble  frame,  and  it  was  not  well  formed. 

He  was  induced  to  write  the  affecting  narrative  of  his  life  in  con- 
sequence of  some  poetical  attacks  upon  him  by  Dr.  Wolcot,  owing 
to  a  mistake,  as  I  have  stated  in  another  place.  He  was  a  very  pow- 
erful writer,  and  I  have  seen  some  remarks  of  his,  which  indeed 
passed  through  my  hands  when  I  was  connected  with  "  The  Sun" 
newspaper,  in  which  they  were  inserted,  and  which  were  charac- 
terized by  what  may  be  styled  tremendous  energy.  These  remarks 
were  sent  to  me  while  he  was  at  Ramsgate,  and  related  to  a  politi- 


WILLIAM  GIFFORD,  ESQ. 


441 


cal  pamphlet  written  by  Mr.  Roscoe.  Mr.  Gifford  had  no  mercy 
on  those  who  differed  with  him  in  political  opinions.  He  was  a 
stanch  supporter  of  Mr.  Pitt's  administration,  and  was  a  firm  and 
intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Canning. 

I  have  often  thought  that,  though  he  might  not  have  equalled 
Junius  in  keen  sarcasm,  he  would  have  been  more  than  a  match  for 
him  in  force  of  language  and  cogency  of  reasoning.  He  was  too 
apt  in  his  critical  comments,  like  Warburton,  to  treat  others  with 
virulence  and  contempt,  but  was  a  profound  judge  of  literary  merit. 
As  he  entertained,  as  all  must,  a  high  veneration  for  the  genius  of 
Shakspeare,  it  is  surprising  that  he  did  not  give  an  edition  of  that 
wonderful  bard's  works,  rather  than  those  of  Ben  Jonson  ;  but  Jon- 
son  was  a  scholar,  and  Gifford  was  strongly  prejudiced  in  his  favour 
on  that  account.  How  well  he  has  executed  his  task  as  editor  of 
Jonson's  Works  need  not  be  told.  Yet  of  late  years  he  assured 
me  that  he  had  a  great  desire  of  publishing  a  new  edition  of  Shak- 
speare, for  which  he  said  there  was  full  room,  after  all  the  labour 
and  research  of  the  various  commentators.  But  he  said  that  his 
advanced  time  of  life  and  ill  health  forbade  the  hope  that  he  should 
ever  be  able  to  accomplish  his  purpose. 

Gifford  was  a  kind  master,  and  of  a  forgiving  nature.  He  had 
settled  a  pension  on  his  housekeeper  of  a  guinea  a  week  for  her  life, 
in  confidence  of  her  fidelity  ;  but  he  found  that,  during  a  long  illness 
which  disabled  him  from  all  attention  to  domestic  concerns,  instead 
of  paying  his  tradesmen,  &c.  for  which  he  had  furnished  her  with  the 
means,  she  had  devoted  the  money  to  her  own  use,  had  run  him  in 
debt  to  the  amount  of  about  5001.,  and  had  besides  exhausted  his 
wine  cellar,  which  had  been  amply  stored.  Notwithstanding  her 
gross  ingratitude  and  delinquency,  he  merely  dismissed  her. 

The  ability  with  which  Gifford  conducted  "  The  Quarterly  Re- 
view" need  not  be  mentioned,  as  he  rendered  it  the  best  work  of 
that  nature  in  Europe,  and  it  still  maintains  its  pre-eminence  by  the 
reputation  which  he  conferred  on  it,  and  by  the  abilities  of  those 
who  have  succeeded  him  in  the  management.  His  health  evidently 
declined  in  his  latter  years,  insomuch  that  though  he  always  admitted 
me  to  see  him,  and  has  often  written  to  me,  requesting  I  would  call, 
he  was  unable  to  speak  more  than  a  few  words,  desiring  that  I  would 
talk,  and  not  expect  him  to  answer.  In  about  half  an  hour  after  I 
had  been  with  him,  he  would  generally  request  that  I  would  go  and 
take  tea  below,  where  there  were  books  to  amuse  me,  and  then 
would  send  down  a  note  to  me  sometimes,  to  mention  any  thing  that 
had  occurred  to  him  after  I  left  him. 

I  have  a  great  many  of  his  letters,  which  are  marked  with  such 
kindness  and  friendship  that  I  am  rather  surprised  I  had  no  memo- 
rial in  his  will,  as  it  is  said  he  left  property  to  the  amount  of  about 
27,000/.  But  he  disposed  of  it  in  a  manner  honourable  to  his  char- 
acter ;  for,  after  a  few  legacies,  he  left  the  bulk  of  it  to  the  son  of  his 
-early  protector,  who  had  rescued  him  from  hopeless  indigence  and 


442 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


obscurity,  fostered  his  talents,  provided  for  his  education,  and  ena- 
bled him  to  make  a  distinguished  figure  in  the  literary  world. 

Gifford  had  been  severe  upon  the  late  Mr.  Kemble's  "  foggy 
throat,"  in  his  poem  of  "  The  Baviad."  I  introduced  Mr.  Kemble 
to  him  ;  and  soon  after  in  a  new  edition  of  that  poem  he  effaced  the 
passage.  Mr.  Kemble  gave  him  the  free  use  of  his  dramatic  library, 
while  he  was  preparing  his  edition  of  "  Ben  Jonson and  Gifford 
was  profuse  in  his  acknowledgments  of  Kemble's  kindness,  and  in 
respect  for  his  talents. 

Though  Gifford  had  several  appointments  under  government,  and, 
doubtless,  a  settlement  had  been  made  on  him  by  the  late  Lord  Gros- 
venor,  for  being  tutor  of  his  son  the  present  earl,  yet  it  is  difficult  to 
account  for  his  having  left  so  much  property,  as  for  some  years  his 
infirmities  obliged  him  to  keep  a  carriage.  No  doubt  he  was  a 
severe  economist,  and  very  temperate  in  his  habits. 

During  my  long  connexion  with  him,  I  only  dined  with  him  once 
at  his  own  house,  with  his  friend  the  late  Mr.  Porden  the  architect, 
a  man  of  great  literary  as  well  as  professional  talents,  and  who  had 
been  the  intimate  friend  of  Mason  the  poet.  Mr.  Porden  declared 
to  me  his  full  conviction,  that  Mason  was  the  author  of  the  cele- 
brated "  Heroic  Epistle  to  Sir  William  Chambers,"  a  work  of  great 
poetical  merit  and  humour,  but  so  different  from  the  usual  style  of 
Mason  as  to  render  it  difficult  to  conceive  that  it  was  the  progeny  of 
the  same  mind.  Mr.  Porden's  youngest  daughter,  a  lady  of  high 
poetical  genius  and  knowledge,  was  married  to  Captain  Franklin, 
the  celebrated  navigator,  who  lost  in  her  death  an  amiable,  intel- 
ligent, and  accomplished  companion.  I  now  take  leave  of  my  old 
friend  William  Gifford. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

Doctor  Bennet.  With  this  gentleman,  who  was  Bishop  of 
Cloyne,  1  had  the  pleasure  of  being  a  little  acquainted.  He  was 
esteemed  a  good  scholar,  and  was  certainly  an  amiable  and  un- 
affected ecclesiastic.  1  asked  him  if  there  existed  any  traditional 
account  of  his  great  predecessor,  Bishop  Berkeley.  He  assured  me, 
that  soon  after  taking  possession  of  his  diocess,  he  had  made  the 
same  inquiry,  but  all  he  could  learn  was,  that  Dr.  Berkeley  had  left 
a  high  reputation  for  mildness  and  piety,  and  that  in  his  clothing,  and 
all  other  domestic  articles,  he  used  nothing  but  the  produce  of  the 
neighbourhood  in  which  he  resided.  Doctor  Bennet  told  me,  also, 
that  he  was  at  Cambridge  University  at  the  same  time  with  Gray, 
and  that  as  far  as  he  knew  that  great  poet,  he  was  by  no  means  the 
affected  and  fastidious  character  which  he  has  been  represented. 


DR.  BENNET— GEORGE  COLMAN  THE  YOUNGER.  44S 


He  said,  Gray  was  a  reserved  man,  and  not  likely  to  encourage 
any  light  and  frivolous  conversation,  and  therefore  that  the  character 
imputed  to  him  was  prohably  the  result  of  vexation  in  those  who  had 
not  been  suffered  to  intrude  upon  his  studious  seclusion.  As  Doc- 
tor Bennet  was  an  observing  and  discerning  man,  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  relying  upon  his  character  of  the  poet. 

I  may  here  relate  a  circumstance  which  the  late  Mr.  Penneck  as- 
sured me  was  a  fact.  Two  gentlemen,  strangers  to  each  other,  were 
passengers  by  themselves  in  the  Windsor  stage.  One  of  them  was 
the  friend  of  Mr.  Penneck.  As  they  were  passing  Kensington 
church,  the.  latter  broke  forth  into  an  eulogium  on  "  Gray's  Elegy," 
declaring  he  never  passed  a  churchyard  without  being  affected  by  a 
sort  of  poetical  enthusiasm  ;  and  he  then  recited  several  of  the  stan- 
zas, and  renewed  the  subject  as  every  churchyard  appeared  in  view. 
He  afterward,  addressing  himself  to  his  fellow-traveller,  remarked 
how  extraordinary  it  was  that  a  poet  who  could  write  with  such  fer- 
vid genius  and  manly  vigour,  should  be  a  delicate,  timid,  effeminate 
character,  indeed,  "  A  puny  insect  shivering  at  a  breeze."  Soon 
after  the  conversation  became  general,  and  the  other  gentleman,  who 
had  been  silently  attentive,  gave  his  opinions  on  such  topics  as  arose, 
and  displayed  so  much  taste,  judgment,  and  learning,  as  surprised  and 
delighted  the  other.  They  both  left  the  coach  at  Eton,  and  Mr.  Pen- 
neck's  friend  was  all  anxiety  to  know  who  was  the  accomplished 
character  with  whom  he  had  parted.  Meeting  a  friend,  he  was  ex- 
pressing his  admiration,  and  just  then  the  other  gentleman  appeared 
in  view,  and  he  was  told  that  it  was  Gray  the  poet.  He  was  then  all 
confusion  at  the  character  which  he  had  given  of  the  bard  to  himself. 

George  Colman  the  younger.  It  is  no  slight  gratification  to  me 
that  I  am  able  to  number  this  gentleman  among  my  living  friends.  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  an  uninterrupted  intercourse  with  him  for 
upwards  of  thirty  years.  I  hardly  think  that  I  should  show  an  excess 
of  partiality  if  I  were  to  consider  him  as  one  of  the  very  first  dramatic 
writers  of  modern  times,  nor  would  it  appear  to  me  to  be  rash  were  I 
to  rank  him  even  with  my  old  friend  Sheridan.  The  characters 
which  the  latter  has  introduced  are,  in  a  great  degree,  traditional ; 
some  of  them  may  be  found  in  Ben  Jonson,  in  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  in  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  Vanbrugh ;  but  the  characters 
which  the  junior  Colman  has  represented  are  drawn  from  real  life, 
and  diversified  with  great  fertility  and  adim  able  humour.  His  "  Heir 
at  Law,"  "  Poor  Gentleman,"  and  "  John  Bull"  are  excellent  come- 
dies. The  characters  are  various,  well  contrasted,  and  uniformly 
discriminated  and  supported.    His  "  Battle  of  Hexham,"*  and  his 

*  The  "  Battle  of  Hexham"  reminds  me  of  a  jeu-d'esprit  of  my  friend  Colman, 
that  well  merits  a  place  in  his  lively  "  Random  Records."  Our  late  friend  Dr, 
Moseley,  who  succeeded  Dr.  Monsey  as  physician  of  Chelsea  Hospital,  was  making 
some  comments  on  the  play  which  the  author  did  not  approve,  and  therefore  wittily 
interrupted  him  in  the  following  manner :  "  Recollect,  doctor,  that  this  is  «  The  Bat- 
tle of  Hexham,'  not  a  bottle  of  Huxhara." 


444 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


"  Surrender  of  Calais,"  are  written  in  the  style  and  spirit  of  our  an- 
cient dramatic  writers,  whose  works  contain  a  sterling  weight  of 
matter  of  much  higher  value  than  what  is  fashioned  for  the  present 
day.  "  The  Mountaineers "  besides  an  interesting  fable,  has  a 
variety  of  characters,  and  abounds  with  passages  of  great  poetical 
energy  :  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  "The  Iron  Chest,"  founded 
on  the  interesting  and  impressive  novel  of  my  old  friend  Godwin. 

Here  I  cannot  but  pause  with  regret  that  the  unfavourable  recep- 
tion of  this  play,  on  its  first  representation,  should  have  separated  two 
friends,  the  author  and  the  tate  Mr.  Kemble,  from  each  other,  and 
induce  the  former  to  write  his  hostile  preface.  I  was  present  at  the 
first  representation  of  this  play,  and  really  think  that  Kemble  exerted 
himself  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  to  support  it.  The  fact  is,  that 
Kemble  was  ill  at  the  time,  yet  that  very  circumstance  gave  an  in- 
creased interest  to  the  character,  for  Sir  Edward  is  supposed  to  be 
sunk  into  sickness  and  wasting  in  languor,  and  happily  suited  with  the 
dejection  and  alarm  in  which  the  hero  of  the  piece  is  supposed  to  be 
involved. 

Not  knowing  that  Kemble  was  really  indisposed,  I  attributed  his 
acting  to  his  perfect  conception  of  the  nature  and  situation  of  the 
character,  and  thought  his  support  of  it  was  throughout  admirable, 
and  that  I  had  never  seen  him  to  more  advantage.  The  play,  at  first, 
was  certainly  too  long,  and  Dodd,  though  an  excellent  actor,  had  too 
long  a  part,  and  rendered  it  tedious  by  what  my  old  friend,  the  late 
Lord  Guildford,  would  style  his  twaddling  manner.  But  the  author 
revised,  corrected,  and  improved  his  piece,  which  has  now  a  right  to 
be  stationary  with  the  English  stage,  and  affords  good  scope  for  thea- 
trical adventurers.  Happily  the  two  friends  were  again  reconciled. 
Kemble  made  allowance  for  the  genus  irritabile  vatum,  and  the  author 
properly  withdrew  and  suppressed  his  vindictive  philippic. 

I  need  not  mention  the  humorous  poems,  farces,  &c.  &c.  which 
my  friend  Colman  has  written,  nor  his  diverting  "Random  Records," 
as  they  must  be  in  the  hands  of  all  persons  who  pretend  to  taste  ; 
but  shall  conclude  with  a  whimsical  compliment  that  he  paid  to  me 
in  one  of  his  letters,  which  is  now  before  me. 

IMPROMPTU. 

Nine  Tailors  (as  the  proverb  goes) 

Make  but  one  man, — though  many  clothes ; 

But  thou  art  not,  we  know,  like  those, 

My  Taylor  ! 

No — thou  canst  make,  on  Candour's  plan, 
Two  of  thyself — (how  few  that  can  !) 
The  critic  and  the  gentleman, 

My  Taylor ! 

Thomas  Harris,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  who  was  long  the  chief 
proprietor  of  Covent  Garden  theatre,  I  became  acquainted  with  so 


THOMAS  HARRIS,  ESQ. 


445 


long  ago  as  on  the  first  representation  of  the  opera  of"  The  Duenna." 
We  met  at  the  house  of  Joshua  Mayor,  Esq.,  member  for  Abingdon, 
at  Millbank.  Mrs.  Mayor  was  a  very  accomplished  woman,  and  had 
the  character  of  a  great  wit.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Dicken- 
son, one  of  the  most  eminent  brewers  of  his  time.  She  was  under- 
stood to  be  the  granddaughter  of  the  famous  Mr.  Bond  Hopkins, 
immortalized  by  Pope.  It  is  said  that  she  brought  to  Mr.  Mayor  a 
fortune  of  about  fifty  thousand  pounds ;  but  as  they  were  a  fashion- 
able pair,  and  lived  in  a  fashionable  style,  they  were  much  lower  in 
their  condition  towards  the  decline  of  life.  Mr.  Mayor  died  first,  and 
Mrs.  Mayor  retired  into  the  country  with  a  remnant  of  her  fortune. 
But  she  was  a  woman  of  excellent  understanding,  and  bore  the  re- 
verse of  her  fortune  with  cheerful  resignation.  Their  house  at  Mill- 
bank  was  the  resort  of  wits,  barristers,  and  politicians,  as  well  as  of 
musicians,  and  indeed  of  all  who  could  impart  fashion  and  gayety  to 
the  mansion. 

The  well  known  Mr.  George  Rose,  the  friend  of  Mr.  Pitt,  was  a 
frequent  visiter ;  and  I  have  met  there  Mr.  Brummel,  private  secre- 
tary to  Lord  North,  when  prime  minister,  and  father  of  the  Mr. 
Brummel,  who  has  risen  into  the  fantastic  distinction  of  being  styled 
"  Emperor  of  the  Beaux."  As  Mrs.  Mayor  had  a  high  intellectual 
character,  I  may  indulge  myself  in  the  insertion  of  a  few  lines  in  return 
for  some  complimentary  trifle  which  I  had  addressed  to  her. 

Bard,  of  all  other  bards  excelling, 

Who  so  well  hast  sung  of  me, 
Bard,  in  Hatton  Garden  dwelling, 

Thus  I  send  my  thanks  to  thee. 
Long  thy  talents  I  have  known, 

Witty,  generous,  and  free  ; 
But  thy  judgment  ne'er  was  shown, 
Till  thou  sang'st  in  praise  of  me. 

Mr.  Potter,  a  Welsh  judge,  and  Mr.  John  Churchill,  brother  of 
the  poet,  I  have  also  met  at  Mr.  Mayor's.  The  latter's  powers  in 
conversation  were  congenial  with  those  of  his  brother  in  poetry.  I 
have  met  him  also  at  the  table  of  Mr.  Harris,  and  always  found  him. 
the  life  of  the  company.  Mr.  Harris  seemed  to  be  the  chief  and 
favourite  visiter  of  the  house,  and  his  acute  and  sound  understanding 
and  general  knowledge  rendered  him  a  desirable  companion.  His 
views  were  at  once  comprehensive  and  minute,  and  the  same  power- 
ful talents  which  qualified  him  to  govern  the  complicated  concerns 
of  a  theatre  royal  so  well,  would  have  fitted  him  for  an  elevated 
situation  in  the  political  world.  No  man  was  better  able  to  judge 
of  the  merits  of  a  dramatic  composition,  or  to  comply  with  the  public 
taste  in  all  its  variations. 

In  consequence  of  the  services  which  1  had  been  able  to  render 
him,  I  was  favoured  with  his  confidence  and  friendship.  He  once 
offered  me  the  privilege  of  writing  admissions  to  his  theatre,  which  I 
refused,  because  I  knew  that,  by  accepting  it,  I  should  expose  him 


446 


RECORDS  OP  MY  LIFE. 


to  the  ill  will  of  others.  His  ill  health  obliged  him  to  retire  from 
the  conduct  of  the  theatre  during  his  latter  years,  and,  living  in  the 
country,  I  had  no  opportunity  of  seeing  him  long  before  his  death. 
I  shall  therefore  conclude  with  an  extract  from  one  of  his  letters,  as 
it  shows  the  benevolence  of  his  disposition  towards  the  veteran  Dibdin, 
and  will  serve  as  a  memorial  of  our  friendship. 

"  My  good  Friend, 
"  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  I  could  possibly  do  what  you  request  for 
my  old  friend  Dibdin — but  it  is  utterly  impracticable.  Will  a  per- 
mission for  his  sending  in  tiokets  to  the  amount  of  fifty  pounds,  on 
Monday,  the  12th  instant,  be  of  service  to  him  ?  I  mean  they  should 
be  free  of  all  charge  or  expense  whatever.  If  yes — pray  tell  Bran- 
don to  get  them  printed  for  him,  specifying  the  number  in  pit,  box,  or 
gallery.  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  do  no  more  for  the  assistance  of  a  poor 
fellow  who  in  former  times  has  often  assisted  me.  Thanks  for  your 
excellent  prologue — but  the  trifle  you  solicit  is  much  too  confined 
for  your  services — you,  who  are  as  constantly  ready  at  your  post  for 
our  service,  as  if  you  had  no  concerns  whatever  of  your  own. 

"Ever  cordially  and  faithfully  yours, 

"T.  Harris. 

*'  Bellmonte,  July  4th,  1813." 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

Joseph  Planta,  Esq.  If  moral  principles  and  the  force  of  good 
example  may  be  considered  as  intellectual  wealth,  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  deriving  such  mental  affluence  by  my  intercourse  with  this 
gentleman  ;  for  though  I  had  no  domestic  intimacy  with  him,  I  have 
bad  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  in  company  with  the  late  Rev.  Mr. 
Harpur,  Mr.  Maty,  and  Mr.  Penneck,  officers  of  the  British  museum, 
at  the  time  when  Mr.  Planta  was  under-librarian  of  that  national 
institution,  and  afterward  principal  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Morton. 

I  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Planta  about  the  year  1787.  I  had 
been  previously  acquainted  with  the  three  other  gentlemen  ;  and  Mr. 
Maty,  conceiving  that  I  had  rendered  him  some  literary  service,  though 
of  a  very  trifling  kind,  brought  me  an  elegant  snuff-box  from  Paris, 
whicb  I  treasure  as  a  relic  of  old  friendship. 

I  have  already  had  occasion  to  mention  Mr.  Harpur  in  the  course 
of  these  pages  ;  and  all  1  shall  say  of  him  at  present  is,  that  he  was 
one  of  the  best-bred  men  I  ever  knew,  with  all  the  decorum,  but 
without  any  of  the  formality,  usually  attributed  to  the  priesthood. 

There  was  another  officer  of  the  museum  about  that  time,  a  Dr. 
Grey,  who  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  had  a  musical  daughter.  He 


JOSEPH  PLANTA,  ESQ. 


44? 


was  rather  morose  in  his  temper,  and  formed  a  perfect  contrast  to 
the  easy  and  affable  manners  of  Mr.  Planta.  All  of  these  gentlemen 
are  dead,  but  I  have  not  forgotten  the  pleasure  which  I  enjoyed  in 
their  company. 

Mr.  Planta  was  a  native  of  Switzerland,  and  though  he  was  an 
Englishman  in  loyal  feeling,  yet  he  did  not  forget  his  own  country, 
but  gratified  his  patriotic  spirit  by  writing  a  history  of  it,  which 
appears  to  be  elegant  and  impartial.  He  was  also  the  author  of 
"  An  Essay  on  the  Runic  or  Scandinavian  Language,"  and  published 
a  catalogue  of  the  manuscripts  in  the  Cottonian  library.  His  last 
work,  I  believe,  was  "A  short  History  of  the  Restoration  of  the 
Helvetic  Republic,"— a  proof  that  though  he  had  long  been  a  denizen 
of  Great  Britain,  a  strong  sense  of  his  natale  solum  still  dwelt  upon 
his  heart,  while  every  one  of  his  numerous  friends  would  have  been 
proud  to  call  him  their  countryman. 

Mr.  Planta  was  a  fellow  of  the  Royal  Society,  had  the  honour  of 
conducting  the  foreign  correspondence  of  that  noble  institution,  and 
was  afterward  appointed  its  secretary.  I  was  once  in  hopes  that  I 
should  be  able  to  join  the  amicable  circle  at  the  British  museum,  as 
a  vacancy  occurred  among  its  officers,  and  I  was  favoured  with  a 
letter  of  recommendation  from  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  to  Dr. 
Moore,  then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  archbishop  favoured 
me  with  an  interview,  treated  me  with  great  courtesy,  and  asked  me 
why  I  wished  to  bury  my  youth  in  that  comparative  seclusion.  I 
told  his  lordship  that  quiet,  study,  and  independence  would  be  the 
chief  enjoyment  of  my  life,  and  that  I  should  be  perfectly  contented 
with  the  situation  which  1  solicited.  The  archbishop  then  asked  me 
if  I  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with  natural  history,  as  that  was  an 
essential  requisite  for  the  office.  On  my  answering  in  the  negative, 
he  told  me  that  the  place  was  not  a  gift  for  him  to  bestow,  but  a 
duty  for  him  to  discharge,  and  then  courteously  put  an  end  to  the 
interview. 

The  museum  having  lost  by  death  so  many  of  its  former  officers^ 
and  in  later  years  the  Rev.  Thomas  Maurice  and  Archdeacon  Nares,. 
both  men  of  learning  and  literary  powers,  I  seldom  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  seeing  Mr.  Planta,  except  accidently  in  the  street.  Fully 
aware  of  his  parental  affection,  I  always  made  my  first  inquiry  after 
his  son ;  his  countenance  then  invariably  lightened,  and  his  eyes 
glistened  with  pleasure,  and  hence  I  could  not  but  infer  that  so 
affectionate  a  father  was  rewarded  by  a  son  likely  to  fulfil  all  his 
paternal  wishes. 

I  was  very  many  years  ago  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Henry 
Stephens,  who  was  married  to  a  sister  of  Mr.  Planta,  and  was 
promised  an  introduction  to  her,  understanding  that  she  was  a  very- 
accomplished  lady,  but  I  lost  sight  of  Mr.  Stephens,  and  never  en- 
joyed that  pleasure. 

Nothing  can  be  recorded  of  Mr.  Planta  but  what  would  be  highly 
honourable  to  his  memory,  but  there  is  one  circumstance  I  must 

US 


448 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


mention  from  respect  to  his  character  and  to  gratify  myself.  When 
Alexander,  Emperor  of  Russia,  visited  the  British  museum  during 
his  short  stay  in  this  country,  he  was  accompanied  through  the 
rooms  by  Mr.  Planta.  The  emperor  observed  that  the  museum  in 
Paris  contained  a  much  superior  and  more  valuable  collection.  Mr. 
Planta  modestly  answered  the  emperor  in  the  following  words : 
4<  Your  majesty  should  consider  that  we  have  nothing  here  but  what 
has  been  honestly  bought  and  paid  for," — an  answer  respectful, 
spirited,  and  just,  and  which  shows  how  much  he  felt  for  the  honour 
of  his  adopted  country.  This  answer  may  well  be  classed  with  that 
of  Prior  the  poet,  who,  when  viewing  the  pictures  at  Versailles,  where 
the  victories  of  the  French  monarch  are  painted  by  Le  Brun,  and 
being  asked  by  a  French  courtier  whether  the  King  of  England's 
palace  had  such  decorations,  immediately  answered :  "  The  monu- 
ments of  my  master's  actions  are  to  be  seen  everywhere  but  in  his 
own  house :" — an  answer  loyal  and  witty,  but  inferior  to  that  of 
Mr.  Planta  in  point  of  moral  dignity.  Mr.  Planta  died  in  December, 
1827. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  omit  noticing 
this  great  artist,  whom  I  had  known  for  nearly  forty  years,  whom, 
with  all  the  world,  I  admired  for  his  professional  excellence,  and 
whom  I  sincerely  valued  as  a  friend.  I  knew  his  father,  a  very 
respectable  and  amiable  old  gentleman,  and  his  two  brothers.  One 
was  a  clergyman,  with  whom  I  was  but  little  acquainted  ;  with  the 
other  1  was  intimate  many  years.  He  had  tried  his  fortune  on  the 
stage,  but  not  rising  into  eminence,  he  entered  into  the  army,  and 
was  respected  as  an  officer  and  esteemed  for  his  private  worth. 
They  have  both  been  dead  many  years. 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  as  long  as  I  can  remember  him,  was 
admired  for  the  suavity  of  his  manners,  as  well  as  for  the  precocity 
of  his  genius.  It  cannot  be  said  that  he  advanced  in  both,  for  his 
improvement  in  his  profession  was  rapid,  but  the  suavity  of  his 
manners  became  systematic,  and  settled  into  refined  and  habitual 
courtesy.  I  have  been  assured  by  a  friend  who  knew  what  he  said 
to  be  founded  in  truth,  that  when  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  was  em- 
ployed in  Vienna  by  order  of  his  late  majesty,  his  manners  were  so 
polished  and  refined,  supported  also  as  they  were  by  his  general 
knowledge,  taste,  and  professional  genius,  that  he  was  admitted  into 
the  highest  circles  at  the  imperial  court,  from  which  all  lower  grades 
of  nobility  were  excluded. 

Lawrence  was  a  firm  friend,  and  his  qualities  were  well  calculated 
to  excite  friendship.  He  lived  in  the  utmost  intimacy  with  the  late 
Mr.  George  Dance,  the  architect ;  the  late  Mr.  John  Kemble,  the 
greatest  ornament  of  the  stage  in  his  time,  except  Mrs.  Siddons ; 
with  the  late  Mr.  Farrington,  the  admired  landscape  painter ;  and 
with  Messrs.  Smirke,  senior  and  junior ;  all  of  whom  were  able  to 
appreciate  his  merits,  and  the  last  two  are  living  witnesses  of  his 
worth,  and  sincerely  reverence  his  memory.    I  have  had  the  pleasure 


SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE. 


of  meeting  all  of  them  at  bistable,  which  was  characterized  by  ele- 
gance and  hospitality.  He  has  often  paid  me  the  compliment  of 
desiring  me  to  look  at  his  productions,  and  to  give  my  opinion  of 
their  merits  or  defects ;  and  I  have  sometimes  been,  by  his  encourage- 
ment, imboldened  to  offer  an  objection,  which  he  always  received 
with  a  kind  toleration. 

It  would  be  presumption  in  me  to  express  my  admiration  of  his 
genius,  as  it  is  so  well  known  and  acknowledged  by  the  world  at 
large  ;  and,  perhaps,  that  world  has  never  witnessed  a  nobler  mani- 
festation of  graphic  excellence,  the  product  of  an  individual,  than 
that  fine  collection  of  his  works  which  has  been  exhibited  since  his 
death  at  the  British  gallery  in  Pali  Mall.  As  he  occasionally  con- 
descended to  ask  my  opinion  of  his  works,  I  often  solicited  his  judg- 
ment on  my  humble  verses,  and  can  truly  say  that  I  always  profited 
by  his^critical  taste  and  acumen. 

Hearing  of  his  lamented  death,  I  went  on  the  Sunday  following 
the  day  when  that  melancholy  event  took  place,  and  was  permitted 
to  take  the  last  view  of  my  departed  friend ;  and  I  regret  to  say,  he 
was  altered  so  much  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to 
have  known  him  if  I  had  seen  his  remains  in  any  other  house.  I 
shall  now  conclude  this  humble  tribute  to  his  memory  with  a  copy  of 
his  answer  to  a  letter  which  I  sent  to  him  some  time  ago,  including 
a  poem,  if  I  dare  call  it  so,  which  I  wrote  on  seeing  his  portrait  of 
a  lady. 

"TO  JOHN  TAYLOR,  ESQ. 
"My  dear  Sir, 
"  Many  thanks  to  you  (and  they  ought  to  have  been  returned 
sooner)  for  your  friendly  note  and  flattering  tribute  to  my  fair  sub- 
ject and  her  painter.  Her  name  was  6  Thayer'  when  I  painted  the 
picture,  and  is  now  « Madame  Thiebault.'  I  think  the  verses  are 
of  your  very  best,  and  particularly  the  last  stanza,  and  the  last  two 
lines,  but  I  would  cut  out  the  third  stanza,  because  it  suggests  a 
doubt  adverse  to  the  fidelity  of  the  artist  and  the  beauty  of  the  subject. 
Let  me  but  have  your  youth  at  your  age,  and  I  shall  be  additionally 
grateful  to  Providence  for  its  bounties  to  me. 

"  Believe  me  ever,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Y'our  very  faithful  servant, 

"Thomas  Lawrence. 

w  Russell  Square,  Wednesday." 

The  world  at  large  needs  no  proof  of  the  genius  of  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrence,  or  the  extraordinary  excellence  of  his  productions,  and 
ought  also  to  know  that  the  generosity  of  his  disposition  corresponded 
with  his  great  professional  excellence. 

When  I  was  advised  by  my  friends,  in  consequence  of  the  sudden 
loss  of  the  property  which  I  had  been  a  great  part  of  my  life  acquiring, 
to  publish  my  poems  by  subscription,  I  wrote  to  Sir  Thomas  Law- 


450 


Records  of  my  life. 


rence,  requesting  he  would  honour  my  list  of  subscribers  with  his 
name,  but,  as  money  was  a  great  disorganizer  of  friendship,  desiring 
that  none  might  pass  between  us,  but  that  if  he  would  favour  me  with 
a  print  from  his  portrait  of  our  mutual  friend  Mr.  Kemble,  I  should 
esteem  that  a  more  valuable  subscription.  The  following  is  a  copy 
of  his  answer : 

"  to  john  taylor,  esq. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 
"  I  should  be  sorry  if  on  this  occasion  'money  did  not  pass  between 
us.'  You  shall  pardon  me  therefore  for  disobeying  that  part  of  your 
wish,  though  I  shall  gladly  request  your  acceptance  of  the  print  you 
mention  the  moment  I  can  recover  a  good  impression.  I  beg  the 
favour  of  you  to  send  me  two  copies  of  your  work,  my  ready  sub- 
scription to  which  I  am  sure  I  requested  might  be  inserted  at  Mr. 
Murray's  when  the  publication  was  first  proposed. 

"Believe  me  to  remain,  with  constant  esteem  and  respect,  my  dear 
sir,  your  very  faithful  servant,  , 

"Thomas  Lawrence. 

"  Russell  Square,  April  10th,  1827.  " 

It  is  proper  here  to  mention,  that  the  foregoing  letter  contained  a 
draft  on  Coutts's  banking-house  for  ten  guineas,  as  his  subscription, 
which  was  the  more  gratifying,  as  it  contradicted  the  report  that  he 
was  embarrassed  in  his  circumstances,  owing  to  his  liberal  ex- 
penditure on  the  works  of  great  masters. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

Mr.  James  Hook.  This  gentleman  was  long  in  high  reputation 
for  his  musical  powers ;  he  was  the  organist  to  Vauxhall  Gardens 
for  nearly  half  a  century,  and  his  practice  as  a  teacher  of  music  was 
extensive.  His  compositions  are  innumerable ;  his  songs  are  marked 
by  science  and  simplicity,  anil  occasionally  by  humour,  particularly 
those  which  he  composed  for  Vauxhall  Gardens. 

Mr.  Hook  was  a  very  skilful  performer  on  the  organ  and  piano- 
forte, and  an  able  teacher  in  singing ;  many  distinguished  vocal 
performers  were  indebted  to  him  for  those  instructions  which  raised 
them  to  eminence.  He  was  a  very  sensible  and  intelligent  man, 
particularly  fond  of  punning,  and  remarkably  fertile  in  that  species 
of  amusement;  he  was  cheerful  and  good-humoured. 

Mrs.  Hook,  his  first  wife,  possessed  very  respectable  talents  as  an 
artist,  particularly  in  miniature  painting,  many  proofs  of  which  I 
have  seen,  and  which,  in  my  opinion,  displayed  great  skill  and  taste. 


MR*  JAMES  HOOK. 


451 


She  had  also  literary  talents,  and  wrote  two  or  three  dramatic  pieces, 
which  were  well  received  by  the  public,  and  to  which  her  husband's 
music  was  adapted  ;  she  wrote  the  words  of  several  of  his  songs.  I 
have  enjoyed  many  pleasant  hours  at  their  hospitable  board. 

Mrs.  Hook  died  some  years  before  her  husband,  to  the  regret  of 
numerous  friends,  and  a  considerble  time  elapsed  before  Mr.  Hook 
married  again.  He  resided  at  Calais  for  some  years  before  he  died, 
and  I  am  among  many  friends  who  hold  his  memory  in  respect.  I 
knew  him  during  the  childhood  of  his  two  sons,  James  and  Theo- 
dore, both  of  whom  displayed  extraordinary  abilities  at  a  very  early 
age.  Their  parents,  of  course,  were  proud  of  such  promising  off- 
spring, and  gave  them  every  advantage  of  education  to  bring  forth 
their  talents. 

James,  the  eldest,  was  placed  very  early  in  life  at  Westminster 
school,  where  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by  his  classical  attain- 
ments and  literary  powers.  I  remember  that,  while  he  was  at 
Westminster  school,  he  paid  me  the  compliment  of  submitting  to  my 
judgment  a  mock-heroic  poem  of  his  own  writing,  which  appeared 
to  me  at  the  time  to  be  a  work  of  humour  as  well  as  of  poetical 
epirit.  He  also  at  a  very  early  period  displayed  considerable  skill 
and  taste  as  an  artist.  I  have  seen  a  sketch-book,  containing  some 
vivid  portraits  of  many  distinguished  characters  of  the  time.  This 
book  was,  I  believe,  in  the  hands  of  his  late  majesty,  by  whom  Mr. 
James  Hook  was  much  patronized  when  Prince  of  Wales,  and  since 
his  elevation  to  the  throne.  Soon  after  he  wrote  an  opera,  entitled 
"  Jack  of  Newbury,"  to  which  his  father  contributed  the  music,  and 
which  was  successfully  represented  at  Drury-lane  theatre. 

During  the  period  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  while  its  detest- 
able principles  were  vehemently  advocated  in  this  country,  he  wrote 
a  series  of  letters,  that  were  inserted  in  "  The  Sun"  evening  paper, 
of  which  I  was  then  a  proprietor.  They  were  characterized  by 
sound  learning,  cogent  argument,  literary  force,  and  fervid  loyalty. 
As  several  demagogues,  and  some  opposition  newspapers,  mentioned 
with  high  praise  the  liberties  enjoyed  by  our  ancestors,  he  published 
a  series  of  political  papers,  under  the  title  of  "  Good  Old  Times,"  in 
which  he  demonstrated  the  superior  condition  of  the  people  of  the  - 
present  age,  and  with  keen  research  and  historical  accuracy,  as  well 
as  with  powerful  reasoning,  illustrated  the  tyranny  which  the  people 
suffered  at  the  very  periods  that  were  held  forth  as  proofs  of  popular 
freedom  by  the  revolutionary  writers  and  champions  of  anarchy. 

These  papers  were  also  taken  into  "  The  Sun"  newspaper,  as  they 
successively  appeared,  and  were  afterward  collected  into  a  volume 
of  historical  truth,  sound  reasoning,  and  political  sagacity.  After  his 
admission  into  the  church,  Mr.  James  Hook  successively  enjoyed 
several  valuable  preferments,  and  finally  became  Dean  of  Worces- 
ter, with  a  probable  prospect  of  attaining  a  mitre.  His  powers  were 
various,  and  he  inherited  the  musical  taste  of  his  father.  He  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  Sir  Walter  Farquhar,  by  whom  he  had  a  family ; 


452 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  died  a  short  time  ago,  when  he  might  be  said  not  to  have  passed 
the  prime  of  life. 

Theodore,  his  younger  brother  by  several  years,  also  distinguished 
his  talents  at  Westminster  school,  and  those  talents  expanded  with  his 
progress  in  life.  He  is  the  auther  of  several  dramatic  pieces,  which 
have  been  represented  with  great  success.  I  never  heard  that  he  was 
trained  for  any  profession,  but  by  the  connexions  which  his  abilities 
enabled  him  to  acquire,  he  obtained  a  lucrative  appointment  at  the 
Isle  of  France.  Placing  too  much  confidence  in  a  deputy,  who 
abused  his  trust,  he  was  involved  in  great  pecuniary  difficulties  on 
account  of  the  demands  of  government.  As,  however,  he  was  the 
victim  of  treachery,  he  experienced  the  lenity  of  government,  for 
which  it  is  understood  that  he  made  an  ample  return,  in  being  the 
chief  writer  in  a  weekly  paper,  published  on  Sundays,  which  sud- 
denly arose  into  great  popularity  by  its  wit,  humour,  spirit,  and  loyalty. 

Mr.  Theodore  Hook  is  eminent  for  his  colloquial  powers,  which 
render  him  an  acceptable  and  a  courted  guest  in  seme  of  the 
higher  circles  of  the  metropolis.  I  might  perhaps  say  more  of  this 
gentleman,  if  my  opinion  of  his  merits,  as  he  is  alive,  were  not  likely 
to  be  ascribed  to  partiality  and  the  natural  impulse  of  old  friendship 
with  his  family. 

As  a  proof  of  the  favour  in  which  the  late  Dean  of  Worcester  was 
held  by  his  present  majesty,  he  Freceived  a  ^valuable]  snuff-box  from 
the  royal  hand,  enriched  by  a  beautiful  portrait,  in  enamel,  of  Col- 
bert, the  celebrated  French  minister  of  a  former  age. 

W.  T.  Fitzgerald,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  with  whom  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  being  acquainted  many  years,  was  a  member  of  a  club 
entitled  "  Keep  the  Line,"  the  import  of  which  was  to  maintain  due 
decorum  and  respect  in  society.  Never  was  there  a  stronger  oppo- 
sition than  the  implied  precept  in  the  designation  of  the  club,  and  the 
liberties  which  the  members  took  with  each  other  in  the  way  of  rail- 
lery ;  though,  as  all  passed  with  good-humour  and  conviviality,  no 
offence  was  ever  taken  during  the  time  I  was  a  member  :  but  as  the 
meetings  were  held  on  Sundays,  for  the  accommodation  of  Mr. 
Lewis,  Mr.  Holman,  and  other  theatrical  gentlemen,  and  cards  were 
introduced,  the  club  gradually  declined,  and  I  sent  in  my  resignation, 
retaining,  however,  a  sincere  friendship  with  its  members  in  general. 
The  club  soon  after  broke  up. 

At  this  club  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  and 
our  intercourse  ripened  into  a  sincere  and  warm  friendship,  which 
only  terminated  with  his  lamented  death. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  related  to  the  family  of  the  Duke  of  Leinster. 
He  was  nephew  to  the  Mr.  Martin  who  wounded  Wilkes  in  a  duel, 
and  was  afterward  the  hero  of  one  of  Churchill's  poems,  entitled 
"  The  Duellist,"  not  without  danger  to  the  poet,  for  Mr.  Martin  was 
a  very  determined  character,  and  as  likely  to  call  out  Churchill  as 
Wilkes. 

Soon  after  I  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Fitzgerald  he  intro- 
duced me  to  his  family,  consisting  of  his  sister  and  the  two  Misses 


W.  T.  FITZGERALD  REV.  DAVID  WILLIAMS. 


453 


Martin,  his  cousins.  It  was  understood  that  there  was  a  good  income 
among  them,  which  they  formed  into  a  common  stock,  and  lived 
together,  by  which  means  they  were  able  to  keep  a  good  house  in 
Upper  Seymour-street,  and  to  receive  their  friends  with  liberal 
hospitality. 

As  Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  a  great  lover  of  the  drama,  he  had  fre- 
quently dramatic  scenes  represented  at  his  house  in  the  evening  to 
parties  of  his  friends,  some  of  whom  used  to  take  part  in  the  scenic 
amusements.  The  late  Lady  De  Crespigny  used  to  attend  these 
parties,  and  assist  in  the  representations.  I  remember  to  have  been 
present  when  they  represented  a  scene  in  "  The  Fair  Penitent,"  in 
which  Mr.  Fitzgerald  supported  the  part  of  Horatio,  and  Lady  De 
Crespigny  that  of  Calista.  There  was  a  sententious  dignity  in  Fitz- 
gerald's Horatio  ;  and  the  lady  gave  great  effect  to  her  part,  particu- 
larly where  Calista  snatches  her  letter  from  Horatio,  and  destroys 
11  the  wicked  lying  evidence  of  shame." 

Another  of  these  amateur  performers  was  my  friend  William  Bos- 
cawen,  Esq.,  a  poet  and  a  scholar,  and  whose  translation  of  Horace 
is  justly  admired  for  correctness  and  spirit.  He  presented  the  work 
to  me,  and  when  I  expressed  my  regret  that  he  had  given  "  The 
Art  of  Poetry"  in  verses  of  eight  syllables,  he  agreed  with  me  that  it 
ought  to  have  been  translated  in  the  heroic  measure ;  and  the  last 
time  I  saw  him,  which  was  accidentally  in  the  Strand,  he  told  me 
that  he  had  made  a  great  progress  in  a  new  translation  of  that  poem, 
in  ten  syllable  verse,  as  more  suited  to  a  didactic  subject.  He 
looked,  however,  so  ill,  that  I  could  not  help  foreboding  in  my  mind 
that  he  would  not  live  to  finish  his  version.  It  happened  to  be  the 
day  on  which  the  directors  and  subscribers  to  "  The  Literary  Fund" 
held  their  anniversary  dinner  ;  and  when  I  met  him,  he  was  so  zeal- 
ous in  the  cause  of  that  noble  institution,  that  I  am  sure  severe  illness 
only  would  have  kept  him  from  the  celebration.  His  amiable  lady 
was  also  one  of  the  voluntary  actresses  at  Mr.  Fitzgerald's,  and  sup- 
ported pathetic  characters  with  great  feeling  and  delicacy. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald,  besides  his  patrimonial  inheritance,  had  a  retired 
pension  as  one  of  the  officers  of  the  victualling  office.  Before  he  left 
the  office  he  was  the  next  claimant,  by  seniority,  to  the  head  of  the 
department  in  which  he  was  engaged ;  but  he  waived  his  right  in 
favour  of  an  inferior,  upon  a  promise  of  a  hundred  a-year.  The 
other  succeeded  ;  but,  proving  a  defaulter  to  a  large  amount,  he  ab- 
sconded to  America,  and  was  followed  by  officers  sent  by  our  gov- 
ernment, and  frightened  into  restitution,  though,  if  he  had  firmly  held 
his  ill-attained  property,  it  is  said  that  he  would  have  been  supported 
by  the  American  laws. 

Having  mentioned  that  admirable  institution,  "  The  Literary  Fund," 
it  is  proper  that  I  should  speak  of  its  founder,  the  Rev.  David  Wil- 
liams. I  was  well  acquainted  with  him  before  that  institution  was 
established.  He  was  a  learned  man,  and  a  powerful  writer.  His 
first  publie  appearance  in  London  was  as  a  preacher,  at  an  obscure 
chapel  in  Solio,  where  he  brought  forward  a  new  form  of  prayer, 


454 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


and  advanced  doctrines  different  from  those  of  the  orthodox  church, 
but  did  not  become  popular,  chiefly,  perhaps,  because  he  did  not  imi- 
tate the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  of  the  Whitefields  and  the  Wesleys. 
He  therefore  relinquished  that  pursuit,  and  devoted  himself  to  lit- 
erature. 

He  had  early  in  life  written  a  work  entitled  "  The  Philosopher,"  in 
which  there  appeared  to  be  shrewd  and  profound  reasoning.  He  en- 
gaged in  a  translation  of  the  works  of  Voltaire,  and  on  the  appearance 
of  the  French  Revolution,  became  partial  to  its  principles.  Soon  after 
the  commencement  of  that  disturbance  in  the  civilized  world,  he  pub- 
lished a  work  entitled  "  Lessons  to  a  Young  Prince  f  but  immediately 
after  it  appeared  the  infamous  Thomas  Paine  came  forth  with  his 
more  daring  "  Rights  of  Man,"  and  the  "  Lessons"  had  comparatively 
few  pupils. 

One  of  his  early  publications  was  a  "  Letter  to  David  Garrick,"  in 
which  he  treated  the  British  Roscius  with  great  severity.  His  hostil- 
ity was  imputed  to  two  causes  ;  one  the  rejection  by  the  manager  of  a 
dramatic  piece  on  a  Welsh  subject,  and  the  other  his  friendship  for 
Mossop  the  actor,  whom  he  accused  Garrick  of  having  excluded  from 
his  stage  from  motives  of  jealousy,  because  his  own  powers  had 
declined,  and  he  had  then  u  a  lacklustre  eye."  This  pamphlet  had  a 
great  sale,  but  was  condemned  for  its  illiberal  spleen. 

It  is  probable  that  from  his  connexion  with  the  booksellers,  he  pub- 
lished many  works  during  his  latter  years,  but,  as  I  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  him,  I  had  no  opportunity  of  knowing  what  they  were. 
As  it  is  not  known  that  he  had  suffered  the  severe  vicissitudes  of  a  lit- 
erary life  himself,  he  is  the  more  entitled  to  the  praise  of  benevolence 
for  having  been  the  founder  of  "  The  Literary  Fund,"  which  may  be 
considered  as  one  of  the  most  meritorious  institutions  in  this  country, 
and  in  all  Europe. 

The  delicacy,  as  well  as  humanity,  with  which  it  is  conducted,  not 
only  in  affording  relief  to  the  unfortunate  votaries  of  the  muses,  but  in 
sparing  their  feelings  by  the  laudable  caution  with  which  pecuniary 
assistance  is  administered,  is  above  all  praise.  Nor  is  this  delicate 
reserve  the  only  merit  of  the  directors ;  for  they  do  not  wait  for  ap- 
plications, but  endeavour  to  discover  the  victims  of  misfortune,  and 
wherever  they  find  suitable  objects,  promptly  tender  a  liberal  aid. 
The  followers  of  literature  and  the  friends  of  genius  must  therefore 
hold  in  lasting  veneration  the  name  of  David  Williams. 

He  was  a  tall,  stout,  healthy  man  during  the  time  that  I  knew  him  ; 
but  I  understand  that  within  the  last  two  years  of  his  life  he  was  so 
much  reduced  by  sickness  as  to  be  wholly  unable  to  leave  his  home,and 
disposed  to  admit  only  the  visits  of  his  most  intimate  friends.  He  was 
talkative  in  company,  but  if  opposed  in  argument,  there  was  a  kind  of 
negligent  indifference,  and  assumed  superiority  in  his  manner,  as  if  he 
thought  his  opponent's  objections  not  entitled  to  serious  confutation. 
Judging  from  what  he  said  to  me  when  I  last  met  him,  he  seemed  to 
have  become  a  latitudinarian  in  religious  matters  ;  for  observing  him 
in  a  very  light  gray  coat,  I  could  not  help  expressing  my  surprise. 


MR.  BOSCAWEN. 


455 


"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  wore  the  garb  of  hypocrisy  so  long  that  I  was 
ashamed  of  it,  and  have  now  cast  it  aside."  He  was,  however,  a 
warm  and  steady  friend,  and  indefatigable  in  the  cause  of  humanity. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  a  strenuous  and  persevering  supporter  of  "  The 
Literary  Fund,"  to  which  he  annually  contributed  a  laudatory  ode,  to 
the  number  of  eighteen,  which  he  recited  himself  on  the  anniversary- 
celebrations  as  long  as  his  health  would  permit,  and  the  vigorous  ani- 
mation of  his  manner  gave  powerful  support  to  the  poetical  energy 
of  his  several  compositions. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  fell  under  the  sportive  lash  of  the  authors  of  "  The 
Rejected  Addresses,"  chiefly  on  account  of  the  fervid  loyalty  which 
marked  his  poetry  in  general ;  but  that  poetry  is  really  characterized 
by  so  much  strength,  correctness,  and  feeling,  that  it  will  stand  its 
ground  ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  if  my  ingenious  and  liberal-minded 
friends,  the  authors  of  those  sportive  effusions,  had  known  him,  the 
manly  character  and  honourable  spirit  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald  would  have 
exempted  him  from  their  humorous  hostility.  As  to  the  other  critical 
assailants  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  except  Lord  Byron,  they  are  unworthy 
of  notice. 

Before  I  take  leave  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  I  will  return  to  Mr.  Bos- 
cawen.  He  was  the  nephew  of  Admiral  Boscawen,  one  of  our  former 
naval  heroes  ;  but  though  the  glorious  victory  of  the  Nile  seems  to 
lessen  the  triumph  of  all  preceding  naval  achievements,  Mr.  Bos- 
cawen came  forward  with  an  ode  in  honour  of  Nelson,  expressive  of 
enthusiastic  admiration.  Mr.  Boscawen  published  a  volume  of  "  Ori- 
ginal Poems,"  highly  creditable  to  his  genius  and  taste.  He  also  pub? 
lished  a  separate  poem  entitled  "  The  Progress  of  Satire,"  occasioned 
by  a  passage  which  alluded  to  him  in  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature." 
It  is  somewhat  curious  that  the  author  of  this  popular  poem  has  never 
been  discovered. 

For  my  part,  I  consider  "  The  Pursuits  of  Literature"  as  one  of  the 
very  best  of  modern  poems.  It  is  founded  upon  the  true  principles  of 
poetry,  politics,  and  morals,  though  the  late  commentator  Steevens  in- 
vidiously said,  that  "  the  lines  were  only  pegs  to  hang  the  notes  upon." 
To  prove  the  folly  of  the  observation,  a  small  edition  of  the  poem  was 
published  without  notes,  and  was  powerfully  impressive.  What  mod- 
ern poet  has  produced  a  passage  equal  to  that  of  "  The  Bard,"  in 
"  The  Pursuits  of  Literature  ?" 

Mr.  Mathias  presented  to  me  his  tract  on  the  subject  of  the  u  Row- 
ley Poems,"  and  his  arguments  on  the  question  of  their  authenticity 
appear  to  me  to  be  decisive.  Mr.  Mathias  is  admitted  to  be  a  pro- 
found scholar,  and  I  have  been  assured  that  he  writes  the  Italian  lan- 
guage with  as  much  precision  and  taste  as  if  he  were  a  native  of  that 
part  of  Italy  where  it  is  spoken  with  the  greatest  purity  and  elegance. 
He  has  long  resided  at  Naples,  but  wherever  he  resides  he  must  be 
considered  as  the  perfect  gentleman. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  for  many  years  upon  the  most  intimate  footing 
with  the  late  amiable  Lord  Dudley  and  Ward,  a  nobleman  of  the  good 
old  school.    He  was  distinguished  for  the  benevolence  of  his  disposi- 


456 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


tion  and  the  urbanity  of  his  manners.  His  political  principles  being 
congenial  with  those  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  the  noble  lord  was  highly- 
gratified  with  that  gentleman's  poetical  recitations.  His  lordship,  I 
understand,  died  intestate,  from  a  conviction  that  his  hereditary  suc- 
cessor would  dispose  of  his  property  according  to  the  parental  inten- 
tions; but  the  present  Lord  Dudley  has  probably  exceeded  those 
intentions. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  had  long  been  afflicted  with  an  asthma,  and  latterly 
with  a  dropsy,  which  finally  destroyed  his  constitution.  He  has  left  an 
affectionate  widow  and  six  children  to  lament  the  loss  of  a  kind  hus- 
band and  father,  a  loyal  subject,  a  polished  gentleman,  and  an  excel- 
lent member  of  society. 


CHAPTER  LXV1I. 

John  Crowder,  Esq.  This  gentleman,  who  conducted  himself  so 
well  during  his  mayoralty,  1  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  many  years, 
and  have  passed  many  pleasant  hours  at  his  hospitable  mansion,  near 
the  three-mile  stone  on  the  Hammersmith  road.  He  frequently  in- 
vited his  friends  to  his  plenteous  and  elegant  table.  His  guests  were 
chiefly  literary  characters,  or  friends  connected  with  literature.  I 
have  met  there  the  late  Sir  Nathaniel  Conant,  formerly  a  bookseller ; 
the  Baldwins,  eminent  booksellers  and  printers  ;  Mr.  Alexander  Chal- 
mers ;  Mr.  George  Nicol,  and  his  son  Mr.  William  Nicol.  Good- 
humour  and  festivity  was  "  the  order  of  the  day." 

Mr.  Crowder  was  a  printer,  and  a  proprietor  of  "  The  Public 
Ledger,"  a  daily  paper,  that  under  his  conduct  faithfully  adhered  to 
its  original  motto,  viz.  "  Open  to  all  parties,  but  influenced  by  none." 
He  was  a  firm  friend  to  the  British  constitution,  equally  free  from  all 
servile  devotion  to  the  ministry,  and  adverse  to  all  the  violence  of 
party.  He  was  also,  I  believe,  connected  with  a  paper  manufactory ; 
and  possessed,  by  all  accounts,  property  amply  sufficient  to  justify  his 
liberal  hospitality. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  he  was  attached  to  the  stage,  and  was 
occasionally  an  amateur  actor  of  such  merit  as  might  have  tempted  him 
to  adopt  the  theatrical  profession  if  he  had  not  had  better  prospects. 
Dr.  Stratford,  a  clergyman,  had  written  a  tragedy  entitled  "  Lord  Rus- 
sell," and  I  was  present  at  the  performance  of  this  tragedy  inDrury-lane 
theatre  by  amateur  actors,  and  Mr.  Crowder  was  one  of  them.  Mr. 
Lawrence,  the  father  of  the  late  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  was  another. 
A  son  of  Dr.  Lucas,  a  celebrated  Irish  patriot  and  writer,  was  also  a 
supporter  of  this  piece  for  the  benefit  of  the  author  ;  and  all  I  remem- 
ber is,  that  there  was  something  so  grotesque  and  ludicrous  in  the  per- 
formance of  Mr.  Lucas,  that  it  was  in  the  daily  papers  the  subject  of 
ridicule  for  many  days  after. 


DR.  WM.  THOMPSON  WM.  PEARCE,  ESQ. 


457 


I  do  not  recollect  that  any  former  lord-mayor,  within  my  time,  so 
rapidly  passed  through  the  several  offices  of  sheriff,  alderman,  and 
chief  magistrate  of  the  city,  as  Mr.  Crowder, — a  proof  of  the  excel- 
lence of  his  character,  and  the  general  estimation  in  which  it  was 
held. 

I  had  not  seen  him  since  he  invited  me  to  his  sheriff's  dinner  till  I 
lately  met  him  at  my  old  and  worthy  friend's,  Sir  William  Beechey, 
with  whom  I  was  sitting  in  his  painting-room  ;  Mr.  Crowder,  then 
lord-mayor,  when  he  entered  the  room  and  saw  me,  seemed  to 
recollect  old  times,  and  gave  a  start  of  theatrical  surprise,  and  before 
we  parted,  he  invited  Sir  William,  myself,  and  my  son  to  one  of  his 
private  dinners  at  the  Mansion-house.  Illness  prevented  my  attend- 
ing the  first  invitation,  but  we  soon  received  another,  which  my  son 
and  I  accepted ;  but  then,  unfortunately,  his  illness  prevented  his  pre- 
siding at  the  table,  and  that  illness,  to  the  regret  of  his  numerous 
friends,  has  since  terminated  in  his  death. 

It  is  some  consolation  to  those  friends,  that  Sir  William  Beechey 
has  painted  a  fine  portrait  of  him  in  his  civic  robes,  and  as  it  will 
doubtless  come  into  the  hands  of  the  engraver,  they  will  all  have  an 
opportunity  of  obtaining  a  faithful  and  spirited  likeness  of  an  esti- 
mable man  and  an  able  and  upright  magistrate. 

Dr.  William  Thompson.  This  gentleman  was  a  native  of  Scot- 
land, and  a  very  learned  man ;  he  is  mentioned  by  my  friend  Mr. 
Moore,  in  his  Life  of  Sheridan.  He  was  very  intelligent,  but  very 
absent ;  I  was  intimate  with  him  for  nearly  thirty  years.  He  was 
the  particular  friend  of  Gilbert  Stewart,  the  Scotch  Historian,  with 
whom  also  1  had  the  pleasure  of  being  acquainted. 

I  met  Dr.  Thompson  one  day  in  Soho ;  and  as  he  was  communi- 
cative and  instructive,  I  always  listened  to  him  with  pleasure.  He 
began  to  speak  on  the  politics  of  the  day  and  of  the  universal  dissi- 
pation of  the  age;  concluding  every  remark,  "  But,  sir,  it  all  arises 
from  the  progress  of  manners."  The  discourse  lasted  so  long,  that 
I  had  no  time  to  spare,  therefore  taking  advantage  of  a  momentary 
pause,  I  asked  him  how  Mrs.  Thompson  (his  first  wife)  was.  "  Oh, 
sir  !"  said  he,  "  I  am  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  men  in  the  world ; 
she  died  last  night,  and  I  am  now  going  to  the  undertaker  to  arrange 
her  funeral."  Having  a  great  respect  for  the  doctor,  I  could  not 
avoid  feeling  some  satisfaction,  that  his  political  dissertation  on  the 
progress  of  manners  had  for  some  time  released  him  from  the  pres- 
sure of  conjugal  anxiety. 

'William  Pearce,  Esq.  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  can  include  this 
gentleman  among  my  living  friends,  as  well  as  my  old  ones.  He 
long  held  a  responsible  situation  at  the  Admiralty,  and  has  for  some 
years  retired  to  the  enjoyment  of  ease,  literature,  and  domestic  hap- 
piness. He  married  the  sister  of  my  old  friend  Sir  Henry  Bate 
Dudley. 

Mr.  Pearce  is  well  known  in  the  dramatic  world.  His  farces  were 
always  successful,  particularly  his  "Hartford  Bridge,"  which  was 


458 


IlECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


skilfully  adapted  to  the  talents  of  the  respective  performers,  and  was 
so  attractive  at  the  time  when  it  first  appeared,  that  it  well  might  be 
revived  and  ranked  among  the  stock  pieces.  Mr.  Pearce's  first  pro- 
duction was  a  poetical  description  of  the  reigning  beauties  of  the 
time.  The  characters  were  nicely  discriminated,  and  the  praise  was 
appropriate  without  flattery.  This  work  was  called  "  The  Bevy  of 
Beauties,"  and  was  so  much  admired  that  it  procured  for  the  author 
the  title  of  "  Bevy  Pearce."  Many  of  those  beauties  have  doubtless 
obeyed  the  summons  of  "  the  fell  sergeant  Death ;"  but  the  work 
should  be  revived,  that  as  Vandyke  has  bequeathed  to  us  the 
"  Beauties  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,"  by  his  admirable 
pencil,  those  of  the  reign  of  George  the  Third  may  be  transmitted  to 
posterity  by  the  poetical  delineations  of  my  friend  Pearce. 

Mr.  Pearce  has  written  many  popular  songs,  which  have  been 
adapted  to  music  by  his  excellent  friend  Shield,  a  man  whom  all  who 
knew  him  admired  and  loved.  I  will  mention  one  of  these  popular 
songs,  because,  though  written  by  Mr.  Pearce,  and  the  music  by 
Shield,  it  has  been  erroneously  attributed  to  the  elder  Dibdin,  with 
whose  lyric  compositions  it  indeed  may  well  be  compared.  This 
song  was  styled  "  Tom  Moody." 

"You  all  knew  Tom  Moody,  the  whipper-in,  well."     Hi  9 

This  song  is  properly  assigned  to  Mr.  Pearce,  in  Daniel's  valuable 
edition  of  "  British  Sports,"  and  in  other  publications,  so  that  there 
can  be  no  excuse  for  depriving  the  author  and  the  composer  of  their 
due  praise. 

Doctor  Hill,  chiefly  distinguished  by  his  "  Swedish  knighthood," 
which  he  translated  into  English,  and  generally  styled  Sir  John  Hill, 
was  well  acquainted  with  my  father,  but  I  never  saw  him,  though  I 
was  very  desirous  of  being  introduced  to  him,  as  his  works  had 
highly  gratified  me  in  early  life.  He  was  a  man  of  very  extraordi- 
nary powers,  and  might  have  risen  into  the  most  respectable  estima- 
tion if  he  had  not  been  the  victim  of  vanity  and  malevolence.  Though 
a  very  timid  man,  and  disposed  to  submit  to  the  grossest  personal 
violence,  and  even  chastisement,  nothing  could  subdue  the  heroic 
intrepidity  of  his  pen.  His  history  is  so  well  known,  that  it  would 
be  absurd  to  detail  it  in  this  place. 

He  was  severely  handled  by  Churchill,  but  his  indiscriminate  cen- 
sure of  others  justly  exposed  him  to  assaults.  He  attacked  Christo- 
pher Smart,  the  poet,  who  was  provoked  to  write  a  mock  heroic 
poem  on  him,  entitled  "  The  Hilliad,"  to  which  Mr.  Arthur  Murphy 
assured  me  that  he  wrote  the  copious  notes  annexed.  Smart  styled 
Hill  in  this  poem, 

The  insolvent  tenant  of  encumber'd  space. 

Smart  only  published  one  book  of  this  poem,  and  promised  another, 
but  his  mind  became  disordered,  which  rendered  him  incapable. 


DOCTOR  HILL. 


459 


It  is  a  singular  circumstance,  that  though  so  pusillanimous  in  his 
own  temper,  Hill  has  drawn  a  portrait  of  such  firm,  temperate,  and 
determined  courage  in  his  novel,  called  "The  Adventures  of  Mr. 
Lovell,"  as  it  might  be  conceived  hardly  possible  to  enter  into  the 
mind  of  so  opposite  a  character.  He  quarrelled  with  Woodward, 
the  actor,  and  wrote  severely  against  him.  Woodward  was  pro- 
voked to  reply  in  a  pamphlet,  in  which  there  was  a  passage  to 
the  following  effect,  as  well  as  I  remember.  "  I  once,"  says  Wood- 
ward, "  saw  you  play  Lothario  at  May  Fair,  when  Dagger  Marr 
(a  poor  actor)  was  Altamont,  and  the  audience  heartily  concurred 
with  you,  when  you  dying  said, '  Oh !  Altamont,  thy  genius  is  the 
stronger.' " 

The  late  Mr.  Jerningham  told  me  that  Hill  appeared  to  him  to  be 
a  good  Latin  and  Greek  scholar,  but  that  he  was  totally  unacquainted 
with  the  modern  languages  of  Europe ;  yet  he  invited  all  the  corps 
diplomatique  to  dine  with  him  at  Bayswater,  and  requested  Mr. 
Jerningham  to  be  of  the  party,  that  he  might  be  instrumental  in 
promoting  some  intercourse  between  the  host  and  his  guests,  which 
without  such  aid  must  have  been  very  limited. 

One  time,  when  King  George  the  Third  was  at  the  theatre,  and 
an  incidental  compliment  was  paid  from  the  stage  on  his  majesty's 
patronage  of  literature,  Sir  John  Hill,  who  was  in  a  neighbouring  box, 
arose  in  a  manner  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  audience, 
and  made  a  formal  bow  to  his  majesty,  merely  to  render  himself 
conspicuous. 

Dennis  M'Kerchier,  Esq.,  an  Irish  gentleman  of  fortune,  who  lived 
with  Lady  Vane,  was  said  to  have  written  her  memoirs,  as  they  ap- 
pear in  "  Peregrine  Pickle ;"  and  Dr.  Hill  was  employed  by  Lord 
Vane  to  write  the  history  of  "  Lady  Frail,"  to  counteract  the  im- 
pression on  the  public.  The  infidelity  of  the  lady  had  induced 
M'Kerchier  to  separate  from  her.  When  he  was  near  death,  she 
anxiously  desired  to  see  him,  but  he  would  not  suffer  her  to  approach. 
Mr.  M'Kerchier  is  introduced  in  "  Peregrine  Pickle"  as  the  gentle- 
man who  so  generously  protected  the  young  man  in  the  famous 
Anglesey  cause,  who  was  so  cruelly  persecuted  by  Lord  Valentia, 
his  uncle.  This  story  is  the  foundation  of  Mr.  Godwin's  last  romance, 
entitled  "  Cloudesley." 

Dr.  Hill,  in  his  novel  of  Mr.  Lovell,  according  to  report,  in- 
tended to  draw  his  own  character  as  the  hero  of  the  piece,  and 
he  there  mentions  an  amour  that  Lovell  had  with  the  famous  Mrs. 
Woffington. 

Mrs.  Woffington  was  so  regardless  of  her  reputation  that  little 
respect  is  due  to  her  memory ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  excuse  the 
vain  relation  of  Dr.  Hill,  even  admitting  that  it  was  well  founded. 

Dr.  Hill  possessed  poetical  talents  that  might  have  raised  him  into 
notice.  There  are  some  specimens  in  the  novel  alluded  to,  but  I 
subjoin  the  following  stanzas,  which  are  little  known,  and  still  less  to 
have  been  written  by  him. 


460 


RECORDS  OF  MY  LIFE. 


ANACREONTIC. 

Bid  me,  when  forty  winters  more 

Have  furrow'd  deep  my  pallid  brow ; 
When  from  my  head,  a  scanty  store, 

Lankly  the  wither'd  tresses  flow  ; 
"When  the  warm  tide  that,  bold  and  strong, 

Now  routs  impetuous  on  and  free, 
Languid  and  slow,  scarce  steals  along, 

Then  bid  me  court  sobriety. 

Nature,  who  forrnd  the  varied  scene 

Of  storm  and  calm,  of  frost  and  fire, 
Unerring  guide,  could  only  mean 

That  Age  should  reason,  Youth  desire  ; 
Shall  then  that  rebel  Man  presume, 

Inverting  Nature's  laws,  to  seize 
The  dues  of  Age  in  Youth's  high  bloom, 

And  join  impossibilities  ? 

Let  me  waste  the  frolic  May 

In  wanton  joy  and  wild  excess, 
In  revel,  sport,  and  laughter  gay, 

In  mirth  and  rosy  cheerfulness. 
Woman,  the  soul  of  all  delights, 

And  wine,  the  spur  of  love,  be  there, 
All  charms  me  that  to  joy  incites, 

And  every  she  that's  kind  is  fair. 

There  is  a  redundance  of  imagery  in  the  first  part  of  the  last 
stanza,  but  the  whole  is  spirited  and  pointed. 

The  doctor  was  a  pitiable  victim  to  the  gout.  Having  once  met 
my  friend  Penneck,  who  was  hobbling  under  the  same  disorder,  the 
doctor  said,  "  Try  the  tincture  of  Barduna,  it  is  a  certain  cure."  A 
fortnight  after,  coming  in  his  carriage  to  the  British  museum,  and 
hardly  able  to  get  out  of  it,  being  so  severely  attacked  by  the  gout, 
and  meeting  Mr.  Penneck  at  the  same  place,  the  latter,  with  sarcastic 
gravity,  said,  ■  Doctor,  let  me  recommend  the  tincture  of  Barduna 
to  you  as  a  sure  specific." 

It  is  impossible  to  reflect  on  the  character  of  Sir  John  Hill,  to 
whom  nature  had  been  so  bountiful,  without  feeling  regret  that  his 
talents,  attainments,  enterprising  spirit,  and  indefatigable  industry 
should  have  been  nullified  by  his  envy,  vanity,  and  morbid  thirst  for 
fame,  or  rather  for  notoriety.  Properly  directed,  his  literary  powers 
and  his  fertility  might  have  raised  him  to  one  of  the  highest  ranks  of 
literary  eminence.    But  as  it  was,  he  rendered  himself 

 A  fix'd  figure 

For  the  hand  of  scorn  to  point  her  slow  and  moving  finger  at. 

I  once  met  his  widow  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Pope,  the  actor,  in  Half- 
moon-street,  and  Dr.  Wolcot  was  of  the  party,  to  whom  she  was  for- 
mally introduced  as  to  Peter  Pindar.  She  seemed  to  be  an  intelli- 
gent and  lady-like  character.  She  paid  Dr.  Wolcot  many  com- 
pliments on  his  works,  and  recited  many  passages  from  them.  The 


DOCTOR  HILL. 


461 


doctor,  who  was  fond  of  praise,  seemed  to  be  highly  gratified  with 
her  commendation,  and  amply  returned  her  courteous  attention. 
The  doctor  and  I  went  away  together,  and  as  we  walked,  I  asked 
him  how  he  liked  Lady  Hill.  He  said  she  was  a  very  agreeable, 
elegant,  and  intelligent  woman.  I  then  asked  him  if  he  knew  who 
she  was.  He  said, "  I  suppose  the  widow  of  some  Irish  lord."  "  No," 
said  I,  "  she  is  the  widow  of  that  celebrated  physician,  Sir  John  Hill." 
"  What !  of  that  old  quack — have  I  been  praising  her  ?  D — n  me,  I 
will  go  back  and  spit  at  her."  This  menace  he  uttered  in  a  mo- 
mentary anger  ;  for  soon  after,  reflecting  on  her  praises  of  his  works, 
he  returned  to  his  first  feelings,  and  added,  "  But  she  is,  however,  really 
a  very  agreeable  woman."  Such  was  the  impression  of  Dr.  Hill's 
memory  on  a  man  who  otherwise  would  have  honoured  his  talents 
and  admired  his  productions. 

I  shall  now  conclude  these  "  Rambling  Recollections"  with  simply 
observing,  that  if  they  shall  amuse  the  reader  as  much  as  they  have 
done  the  writer,  he  will  be  abundantly  satisfied  for  the  labour  which 
it  has  cost  him  to  put  them  together. 


THE  END. 


r 


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